Flying Dream in Lemuria, Twin Earth. (Redux)

Extra-Human Singing Pink Chimpanzee

On Monday, April 4, 1994, while the Moon transited both Capricorn and my eighth house, I would dream the following six dreams. These dreams were recorded on audiocassettes one hundred and eighty through one hundred and eighty-one. 

These were marvellous dreams; there was flight and there were dreams of extra-humans.  More than that, there was information gleaned in the final dream, which spoke of hidden knowledge about intelligent life here in the Solar system. 

As ever, sweet and blissful dreams to you; I love you more. 

Chinese Vagrant

Saw Wilbur Clemsworth and a couple of others outside, in this the first dream, where it was uncharacteristically sunny – at least by Vancouver standards.  They were on an incline above and to the left of the street.  As it turned out, they were on the hunt for extra-humans.  This was because a singing, pink chimpanzee had fallen from the sky.  Three or four guys had, thus far, been rounded up.  A Chinese vagrant showed up from up the hill; he had been at a busy intersection seated on a large green-trunked tree.  He pointed out that some of the knobby-trunked trees were, in fact, hosts for stowaway extra-humans. 

Psychadelic Dream House

I was part of the group and there were three or four others.  They were all very odd-looking guys.  I was then on a busy sidewalk where there energetically was lots of colour.  Young couples hung out beneath café awnings whilst enjoying the Sun and their love.  When looking down the block, I saw – two intersections away – a house that was painted an electric psychedelic array of colours: pinks, purples and greens predominating.  There on the second storey and at the far-left window, the actor, Teri Garr was seen being deeply French-kissed by one of the extra-humans.  The extra-human was a blonde vixen who literally raped Teri Garr of her breath. 

Angolan Model, Maria Borges

I was with a very dark-skinned beauty who wore a tight white dress; there was African-beaded print that horizontally moved across the fabric.  She walked so beautifully that I began dancing ahead of her while serenading her progression.  Gingerly, dancing along the sidewalk, I did pas de courrus as in the coda from the Don Quixote grand pas de deux.  Soon enough, I leapt into the air and took to flight.  Effortlessly, I left the group and the area while moving through a towering canyonned growth of cedars.  Eventually, I had come out to a cul-de-sac where the canyon ended.  At that, I rose some three or four storeys higher into the air. 

Angolan Model, Maria Borges, Vogue Portugal

Next, I started to make my way back.  This time, however, I would veer off to the left; this brought into view the vibrantly painted tropical villas in the village.  Going to the closest, it had orange-exteriored walls.  On the villa’s patio, I would try dialling a brown phone.  The phone was long abandoned, broken and cordless.  As it was, the place had seemingly been broken into long ago.  Going inside, there I found a lightweight silver camera; it was like the old, large flash numbers that the Hollywood paparazzi in the 1940s would use.  On its underside was a large cartridge that sat to the left front when looking at it face on.  On checking it out, it proved an empty case in which batteries could be stored. 

Dream Model Not Penina da Brgha

I took a few frames of Penina da Braga who was about and was taken aback at the speed with which they were developed.  Certainly, the thing did not seem like a Polaroid camera; yet, it had spat out the developed product even faster than a Polaroid would have.  There were different exposures of Penina lying on a red footstool.  The stool was reminiscent of the tacky ones that used to be at 122 Mortimer Avenue.  Large enough, it was such that it could comfortably host her curled up body.  Penina reclined with right knee up with her face inclined to the right.  While posing, she had squarely looked up into the camera.  Her pose and energy were rather warm and arrestingly beautiful.  She was so impressively alive and awakened here. 

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Roy Marcus Cohn

Going into a large, nearby empty hall, during this the second dream, there I saw a curly-haired man who was distinctly Jewish.  We sat in one corner by some crates and started fondling each other.  He let me know that he has got quite the mouthful.  Soon, he had gotten up onto his knees facing me and rammed his ridiculously huge thick dick down my throat.  His cock was so massive that I began gagging on the damn thing.  I did not appreciate his hairy-back-and-arsed brawny approach.  A real low-browed grunt he was. 

He then yanked his monster schlong away from me.  Next, he got up and left by the doors that were off to my left rear.  Waiting there interminably, he never did show up again.  This is the sort of thing that one could readily expect of someone of his ilk whose raison d’être is fucking le tout goyim because… well… one can.  Soon after, a tall cropped-haired brunette appeared and walked her horsy-faced arse past me.  By now, I was in lotus position in the middle of the room.  As a result, she went and took the same position to my rear.  She laughed at me as I tried bending forwards to place my chest on the floor.  I had had to use my clasped hands behind my back throughout the exercise. 

I had placed my hands such, to give myself momentum; however, in this instance, it caused me to fall forwards onto my forehead.  Meanwhile, the size queen in me was disappointed that the wunder-schlonged Jew had not reappeared.

*Roy Cohn was not the subject of this dream; however, the Jew encountered had the same vile, racist, depravity of spirit about him. END.  

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Forest with Moss-Covered Alder Trees

Next, in this the third dream, I was walking in a grove of mossy alder.  While there, I saw a species of reptile never before encountered in the dreamtime.  About 8-12 inches long, they were diamond-headed and looked like young snakes.  Fat-bodied, they had a short squat tail.  Theirs were large black eyes with wide round mouths which were not unlike some lizards’.  They did not, however, have four limbs like an iguana whose length they approximated.  Nor, for that matter, did they have two limbs like a tadpole’s whose short finlike tail they matched.  The face and neck of these creatures were white throughout.  Too, the white applied to their undersides just aft of what would have been their four limbs. 

They clung to the barks sucker-style and always hung such that their faces always faced down to the ground.  Observing them for a while, I was intrigued to find out how they managed locomotion.  They were never anything but perfectly immobile with the most penetrating gaze.  Their intelligence was so uncannily discernible that it was almost as if they were looking into you.  There was a real scorpionic intensity to their eyes; in that sense, they were not unlike Pericles da Braga’s eyes.  The edge of having a scorpionic Moon that affords such persons the ability to directly look into you. 

Prashant Sharma, too, does have this characteristic.  Without warning, one of them leapt from its suckered perch and directly made for my face in one lightning fast move.  In one agile duck, I was cleared of being attacked by the stealthy creature.  From my squat position, I made a plié of it and pounced with feline ease into the air.  Shooting upwards, I flew high into the air and thus avoided contact with these creatures.  I then came to perch atop a 150-foot cedar which was no taller than its neighbours.  The creature had been so fiercely agile that I experienced its approach as if it were happening in slow-motion.  Finally, I had gotten their locomotion figured out; they simply sprung like a cobra on the attack. 

They, though, were able to will themselves through the air; it was as though it were an aqueous medium and they merely newborn puppy sharks.  When making for their chosen target, they simply bolted at you in an arrow-like short flight.  They flew with their mouths agape because on landing, they took initial purchase by clamping down hard with their fierce-looking mouths.  Theirs was a mouth full of razor-sharp-looking teeth with double fangs no less; they were a truly monstrous sight.  The others, meanwhile, bolted for cover as I took flight.  I suppose that they were surprised that I could fly; well, I am certainly no sleepwalker when in the dreamtime. 

Chiropractic Neck Manipulation

*This jarring experience, which truly terrified me, had had the advantageous effect of manipulating my problem neck vertebrae.  Goodness knows that they had been a source of much pain of late.  On awakening, I was really only too glad to have been free of the pain.  When the sudden jarring motion of being startled by the attacking creature had occurred, in the dreamtime, I was suddenly aware of my body lying asleep in the pyramid.  At the time, my spine was being manipulated back into place.  Although I had been acutely aware of the corrective manipulation of my spine, I had not awakened. 

Though I continued to be ‘under’ in the dream state, I was spatially aware of my waking state body.  I remained focussed and engaged in the process of dreaming.  As a result, these strange creatures could be said to have been healers whose purpose it was, to have jarringly righted my aches at this time.

**As will be obvious, this manipulation occurred in preparation of the astral projection that would take place during the sixth and final dream.  END. 

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Dark Intimate Bar

Next, in this the fourth dream, I found myself in Crab Hill, Sandy Point, St. Kitts.  At the time, I was walking and thinking of Pandora da Braga as I progressed on foot across the bridge to Patrice Wellesley’s store just a short distance away.  As I did so, I had heard someone call out to me and it turned out to have been Ian Banks Jr..  He then called me inside where we visited; he was exceptionally handsome.  He took a break from working at the store and asked me to join him for a drink.  Dimpled, he was stout and had a bit of a paunch which I found surprising. 

Dismissing my fears about him possibly rejecting me, he was genuinely pleased to have seen me.  I had had concerns all along that he would not have approved of me – if only because of my sexual proclivities.  This man’s presence was so very real and intense that I was completely energised by him.  I was really turned on by his strong sexual magnetism.  Finding myself in such strongly intense dreams has never ceased to inspire awe within me.  Pandora then joined us and let me know that she didn’t appreciate my being loudmouthed about her having gone Rasta, “to please some stinking-mouthed, potbellied wimp.” 

You just know too that I had said as much with regards to Roman Danier.  Pandora here was long-haired; her hair was braided in cornrows.  Looking to shift gears, I had asked her if she had had to cut off her dreadlocks to start all over again.  Somehow, she had apparently gotten her hair untangled by a professional and was able to braid it.  This I thought was highly unlikely. 

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Dream Alluring Beauty in Hat

I went into a work area, in this the fifth dream, by some oversized cases beyond a set of machinery.  There I saw Lola Davidoff as well as Lawrence Moncton.  Naturally, Lola was wearing a hat and looked as stylish as ever.  I was really pleased to have seen her.  She wore a black outfit.  There was a slight bit of tension as Lawrence was being sarcastic.  Abruptly, I took my leave of them as I was not prepared to suffer either him or his bullshit. 

Lola, however, was genuinely pleased to have seen me.  She had been visiting with Lawrence when I happened on them.  This woman was so sweet on running into her.  Her face was so cute; her face was like a little China doll’s.  She readily lit up and she does, in fact, remind me of Inge Wolfgang.

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Architectural Scales on Twin Earth

In what proved the sixth dream, I went through the multi-tiered lobby of a large palatial hotel.  Lots of gold leaf everywhere; the carpet was a rich mix of red and gold.  The interiors were wide and spacious and of old stone.  The place looked as if it had been hanging around for several millennia.  The colour of these walls was an off-white to near-sandy tone. 

I then walked past models in different salons; they were being prepared to be in a show.  Specifically, they were there to model hats; some of these hats were cascading with lots of tulle and feathers.  High heels and body stockings were de rigueur.  A tall, light-skinned, big-nosed Black hairdresser did the many Black models; they were all together on one side of the large vestibule of the floor that I was on.  This place was quite large.  Across the hallway, all the White models were being prepared; this was about their hair being prepared in as natural a state as possible.  This, therefore, did require different approaches and thus the separation of the models. 

I did though notice that the White models were being prepared in a much better salon than that of their counterparts.  I wondered if this hairdresser was in fact Chiquita Fines, whom I’ve not yet met in the waking state but have been meaning to see. 

*Chiquita would prove herself a cross-dressing queer bird, who was given to pressing up against me while having my hair permed.  Certainly, it took me a while to realise the reason for the long penetrating staring, while doing my hair, when I finally figured out that it was Chiquita’s cock that was aggressively pressing against my forearm as I sat there having her/him work on my hair.  END. 

She did though remind me of Carmelina Dunkins, that Jamaican shrew who works in Toronto.  Taking my leave of the place, I moved to the outdoors where I found myself in a covered alcove that turned out to be high up the massive structure.  I was so thrilled by the density of this architectural gem that I stretched out my hands drinking in this strange city’s beauty.  Across the way, on the other side of a body of water, which from the towering heights where I stood looked jet black, was a massive structure in the same Gothic style as Westminster Palace. 

Twin Earth, Relatively Gargantuan & Millennially More August

This, however, was considerably larger; the structure was easily 7-10 times more massive than Westminster Palace.  I was so invigorated by this massive metropolis that I climbed up on the balustrade then pushed off and began flying.  This city was just as colossal as that encountered when up on the winding road of a city, where I was in search of a concert hall.  That was that very same dream in which I would have a most sublime encounter with Merlin on July 9, 1993.  Of course, that dream is in this blog and entitled: “Won’t take the A train.” 

I had flown out, too, to get a better view of this truly massive city.  The blackened river way below was so coloured because for being canyonned by all these massive structures, it never got direct sunlight.  The replica of Westminster Palace was made from a darker rock and easily 15 millennia older than the current structure on the banks of the river Thames.  What really struck me too, about this building, was that I thought at the time of how much it made Westminster Palace comparatively look like a child’s toy model of the real thing. 

Finally, on getting out into the beautiful-feeling sunlight, I turned around while I had been hovering at least forty storeys above the light-starved blackened river.  I had done so to gaze at the structure from which I had just flown.  Though a hotel, it seemed like a beautiful palatial structure on the banks of the ancient river.  The structure was sandstone and Château-like in style.  Easily in excess of twenty storeys, this was a truly massive structure. 

Twin Earth Architectural Grandeur

This palatial structure made the Château Frontenac in Québec City look like a child’s dollhouse.  There were innumerable dark spired turrets everywhere like at Château de Chenonceau.  Fleetingly, I experienced a stabbing anxiety at being so high up in the air with a body of water way below.  I was worried as to whether or not I would be able to stay aloft at these heights.  Thanks to the sombre, umbraed river way below, I was also fearful of possibly experiencing vertigo.  Isha da Braga came rushing out onto the balcony, from which I had flown, and excitedly called out to me. 

She was worried to death that I would fall; she excitedly demanded that I return at once.  Truly fearful, she asked that I stop being reckless with my life and to please return.  Poor dear, she didn’t quite get it; this was about complete release and being at one with All.  This dream was truly lyrical; it was sheer poetry.  This architecture was as distinctive and revolutionary as Antoni Gaudí’s vision has to date been on this planet. 

A Millennia Aged Civilisation

Looking up above me, I found out that the sky too was jet black and rather ominous looking.  One had the sense that there was a giant black hole on the verge of devouring the local star to this world – just as it had all others in its wake.  There were no doubts in my mind that this was, definitely, not here on Earth.  This, altogether, was a totally different star system to Sol.  Everything here was so intense and existed on a scale that was anywhere from 3-10 times more colossal than anything on Earth which closely resembled it.  Most of all, this was a beautiful old-souled world. 

Architecturally, buildings here were considered old if they had survived past a dozen millennia.  What really impressed me about this astrally projected experience, though, was the fact that everything was so alive, awakened and real.  My senses were keenly attuned.  The light here, though beneath a jet-black sky, was more intense than on Earth.  Though I never did see the star, or stars, of this particular system, nonetheless, it was a stellar source which was far more intense and powerful than Sol. 

A truly rhapsodic dream this proved.  After having telepathically told her not to worry, I spent a great deal of time soaring higher and just indulging in every aspect of this marvellous place and completely ignored Isha

Architectural Scales on Twin Earth

*Before having begun audiocassette-recording the dreams, as well as after having stopped recording the dreams on audiocassettes, I have had many dreams which were set on a companion Earth.  What was interesting to have discovered, is that this twin of Earth, is right here in Sol orbit, rather, than about another star.  According to these dreams, the parallel Earth, which is exactly the same size as Gaia, is at exactly the same location in its orbit about Sol as Earth.  That planet, however, is on the opposite side of Sol and as it travels in the same orbital plane as Earth and has the exact rotation and speed as Earth, we never see it. 

In that sense, Earth’s twin which sits on the other side of Sol is much like the dark side of the Moon.  Just as we never see that side of the Moon, we have also never seen Earth’s twin in the diurnal or nocturnal skies.  At this time, there is common knowledge of this planet’s existence by some governmental agencies.  Conversely, that twin Earth has not one but two moons.  They sit at the same distance relative to Earth’s Moon to the Earth twin. 

Elusive Twin Earth

One is roughly 81.5 per cent the size of Earth’s Moon.  The other is roughly 18.5 per cent the size and mass of Earth’s Moon.  The smaller Moon orbits the larger one and together they have the same tidal effects on the Earth’s twin as does Earth’s moon, Luna.  The twin Moons of Earth’s twin affords its ensouled inhabitants greater psychic and telepathic abilities than Earth’s humans. 

However, as that world is light years more technologically advance and is populated by different ensouled species, who peaceably cohabit their planet, it is best to keep mere mortals of this planet in the dark.  Incidentally, both Atlantis and Lemuria are current and starfaring civilsations on that parallel Earth.  Atlantis is an aquatic civilisation of seafaring humanoids which is where the tales of mermaids originates.  Lemurians are a land-based civilisation. 

More than 80, 000 years ago, the Lemurians altered their genetics to totally remove the primate instincts which left their DNA prone to being a warring race – as for that matter are Earth’s humans.  Atlantean Mermen do not have primate genetics and thus were never warring.  Too, there are three races of ensouled cetaceans on that world.  Further there are at least two dozen extra-human races with which they are in regular and ongoing contact.  The parallel Earth is a favourite, galactic tourist destination.  From time to time, visiting extra-humans to the hidden Earth twin venture to Earth and these are the UFOs/Aliens reported. 

The reason for the sky appearing so black and foreboding, I should think, has much to do with Twin Earth having developed the technological ability to cloak the planetary and lunar space.  This would afford them the ability to not be detected or photographed by a now-spacefaring, albeit solar, Earth civilisation which could prove hostile to them.  I should think that the foreboding blackness of the sky, observed from while being in the dream in flight on the planet, protects Twin Earth from any contaminants, especially nuclear, from Earth should there be any accidents.  This makes perfect sense when considering that both planets share the same orbit about Sol.  That blackness of the sky, though it was daytime, is what affords Twin Earth from going undetected. 

Roughly, 17 per cent of current Earthly humans have had a reincarnation cycle on Earth’s twin and are therefore intuitively aware of that world.  For these humans, it is part of their soul memories and periodically is accessed in dreams.  END. 

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A Love Supreme John Coltrane 1965 Full Album

Part I – Acknowledgement

Part II – Resolution

Part III – Pursuance

Part IV – Psalm

John Coltrane – Soprano & Tenor Saxophone

Jimmy Garrison – Double Bass

Elvin Jones – Drums

McCoy Tyner – Piano

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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.

Gaslighting: No. 1 Response to Anti-Black Racism & How the End of A Dynasty Rather Than Monarchy Unfolds.

“What Didn’t You Do to Bury Us But You Forgot We Are Seeds.”

HM Queen Elizabeth Sharing A Racist Gorilla Joke in Royal Documentary, June 1969

Transcript of racist Joke told by HM The Queen during June 1969 BBC documentary look at the family’s private life:

HMQEII: It’s just extremely difficult sometimes to keep a straight face. When Home Secretary said to me, there’s a gorilla coming in. So I said, what an extraordinary remark to make and unkind about anybody. So, I stood in the middle of the room, pressed the bell, the doors open and there was a gorilla. And I had the most terrible trouble in keeping… you know, he had short torso, long arms and I had the most appalling trouble… (room descends into raucous laughter, that hideous breath that Whites exclusively use when being racist towards Blacks). HM King Charles III, then 20 years old, leans back in his chair, guffawing.

This is a copy of said joke that I made, in the event that the original were to yet again be scrubbed from the Internet.

Outtake from 2021 Oprah Interview which never aired during show.

One of the most important things that the Lady Susan Hussey illumined, was the degree to which ‘others’ go to great lengths to deny the existence of anti-Black racism. Surprised then was I when of all persons, Piers Morgan whilst hosting a discussion of the event, took the position that the decision to remove LSH from the royal household toute de suite, was the right one to have taken. There were two guests, an old bizarre-looking White male who thought that LSH had dutifully served the Crown for decades (6) and ought not to have been treated this way. He, of course, attacked Ngozi Fulani and declared that she had an agendum in all this.

Piers Morgan and Guests Discuss the Lady Susan Hussey Race Row

Naturally, this too is the line that Angela Levin took, as ever that blasted Yenta has to hammer away with her anti-Black racism, making money off of hating Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. The other guest was a BLM female Briton who rather illumined the Black experience and rather articulately stated that the guaranteed response to anti-Black racism is that Blacks claiming anti-Black racism will readily be gaslighted and in effect suffer even more racism.

Actor, Wayne Robson 1970s Vancouver

Early one Friday evening in April 1986, actor Wayne Robson, his lovely wife, Lynn Woodman, Merlin and I, joined two other couples in a Vietnamese, if I’m not mistaken rather than Chinese, restaurant on the south side of Gerrard Street East, just east of Broadview Avenue where the Don River delineates between downtown and east end Toronto. Broadview and Gerrard is one of the city’s Chinatowns which easterly along Gerrard Street East becomes Little India. Charles Lawther, another actor who like Wayne had not yet begun his family was present with his lovely wife, Suzette Couture. The other couple, I had never met and was sat next to them. She was a loud, big-boned, blonde whose fuck du jour, she had just returned from a holiday in the Sun where clearly apart from tanning to excess, they fucked their brains out. Meanwhile, her husband, a filmmaker was off in Europe on location and since her young daughter was undeniably on the spectrum, she was living without a care, ignoring her daughter and on the hunt for bigger dick than she had clearly wedded. Her fuck was a wealthy, South African Jew, who was the most hairy back-and-arsed freak I had yet seen and god was he racially oppressive and acutely hostile in the extreme. We were there to celebrate Wayne’s 40th birthday. Lynn and I, for being the ordinal partners of successful professionals in their circle knew our place and got on well. I always loved going to their Seaton Street apartment which sat atop a townhouse on the east side of the street and sat at the corner of Shuter Street; it was a wonderful home with mementos of Wayne’s acting career with items from the set of Popeye and a panoramic photograph of the film set, shot in Malta with actor, Robin Williams. We got back from that dinner on Gerrard Street East and Merlin became violently sick. He was being taunted for being Jewish and being with me. More than that, he was made sick by a Jew being so hideously possessed of anti-Black racial animus. By that point, I had seen it all and simply checked out and focussed on my lover’s beautiful eyes and the exquisite fare on which we dined.

Eight years later, five years after Merlin’s passing, newly arrived in Vancouver, I stayed at Les karpinsky and his lover Ken’s Sentinel Hill home with the most spectacular views. I was there for a fortnight whilst my West End apartment was being painted and repainted and smudged before I took full possession. One evening, a new friend of theirs came to dinner; he lived on the Sunshine Coast and was an expat South African Jew. As I was no longer Merlin’s significant other, which meant having to hold one’s tongue rather than not, after spending too much time blithering about everyone and everything Jewish, our dinner guest trained his scathing anti-Black racism in my direction. Naturally, much of his banter was about Steven Spielberg’s film the year prior, Schindler’s List. When asked by Les if I had seen the film, I very elegantly, murderously, dismissively, unflinchingly stated that since I am a keen student of American history and interested in only genuine American history, as Auschwitz is not in America, I saw no need to thusly engage. Our expat Joburg Jew readily acted as though I were Himmler returned. Ken who never countenanced confrontations, began clearing the dishes from the table and said he was not feeling well and wanted to go to bed. By then, Ken, Les and I spent most of our time in bed whilst great music saturated their home though not successfully drowning out our salaciousness. As our racist guest, enraged and bothered, abruptly took leave, cutting the eye at me, I bluntly stated, be sure to bring a map of America bearing Auschwitz, Treblinka and Dachau on your next visit and educate me. Having sat there uncomfortably with Ken and Les as the expat South African Ashkenazi Jew blamed the evils of this world on Blacks, chiefly South African and American Blacks, Afro-Sephardic yours truly was sure to succinctly give as fucking good as I had gotten.

Ken and Les apologised and assured me that they had no idea their new friend was such a piece of work, though, Ken did say that he had encountered that kind of intense racial animus from Jews towards Blacks and though it bizarre. Certainly, Merlin definitely did as well. The only time that Merlin ever got mad, was when someone Jewish was on TV openly inciting anti-Black racism. At such times, Merlin would become so upset that he would abruptly get up, scratching his beard at the chin and storm from the room with a weary, loud sigh. Still, at other times, Merlin would hurl whatever book he had at hand, tossing it at the TV and demand that I change the channel at once. As though to embalm ourselves from all that hideousness, after having assured Ken and Les that I was not the least bit upset and they gave assurances that the racist boor was dead to them, we were soon indulging in sexual play like stressed Bonobos. Reaching back, I held Ken’s head in place and twerked like Cardi B. as his tongue behaved as though a famished hog’s set loose in a truffle patch, “Yeah, that’s right, keep your fucking tongue right there!”

Camilla Tominey Justifiably Getting Served Her Racist, Lying Flat Arse

This woman who is truly, hideously clit-nosed had the temerity to attack Meghan, a Black woman, as though there are no other Black women on the planet. Camilla floated the lie that Meghan made Catherine cry and thus began the avalanche of anti-Black racism that has seen Meghan emerge as the most hated Black woman in history. To date, there have been 246 thousand plus articles by the British media, attacking Tungsten each hundred thousand for the number of years, 246, that America violently threw off the yoke of British imperial oppression.

Just like George Floyd, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex plays her role in this the 250 year cycle as Pluto transits Capricorn and violently sets aright that which needs to be dismantled and abolished. She is lancing the bile of 400 plus years of slavery that was officially begun by HM Queen Elizabeth I, who was Margaret Beaufort, Meghan’s soul in a past life’s great-granddaughter, and now culminating in the too-long reign of HM Queen Elizabeth II.

Now let’s explore what is at the heart of all this. The Waleses with their 9-focussed numerology plus the fact that they are task companions, would definitely have been behind the push to oust the Duchess of Sussex from the royal family. They would clearly not have allowed Harry to marry Meghan if they were in the Queen’s position. As events have validated, the Waleses and the Courtesan Queen have their backers whose directives they diligently obey. Of course, the Queen sanctioned the marriage as it would be good for her legacy and the racist Waleses, formerly Cambridges, had no intentions of touring a predominantly Black commonwealth nation and only finally did after Meghan and Harry were driven out and the Queen was dying of cancer.

June, 2018, a month after the Sussexes’ wedding, where the buffoon openly ridiculed his sister-in-law and her Black heritage. Naturally, William was in Jerusalem for his paternal great-grandmother, Philip’s rather ape batshit crazy mother who is buried in the city; or so the excuse was made. He went to the wailing wall to say a prayer directly to god as this is what would definitely get the cushim out of the family.

Ben Goldsmith

Apart from the fact that the royals are not a Jewish family, the intense animus towards Meghan from some Jews has raised more than a few eyebrows within the Black community. Of course, as the saying goes, when you know, you know. The diamond consortia whose tentacles stretch from South Africa, to Israel, to Antwerp, to London and New York City have and always will be a Jewish monopoly. This explains why little Lord Fauntleroy, who’s clearly still pissed that his wife fled his chopped up schmeckel for big Black cock, just had to go flapping his Prissy-arsed gums at Meghan’s expense. Who is this Putz, cussing out Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, calling her a bully if he were not one of the Waleses’ inner circle Jews?

Whenever someone Black rises above their accepted station, this mightily seems to threaten some Jews, not all Jews. In my experience, Ashkenazi Jews are almost violent in their open anti-Black racism. Just look at this woman, Orly Taitz, who told lie, after lie, after lie, followed by absurd litigious campaigns to prevent a Black male, Barack Obama, becoming American President; she can of course be credited with having given that treasonous conman and buffoon ideas and the rest is history.

Seriously, what is driving these persons to obsess and want Meghan dead. Tom Bower declaring on-air, it’s her (Meghan) I’m after. Bethenny Frankel spewing hatred when she hasn’t spent a minute, exploring the racism to which Meghan was subjected – not that it would matter in the least. Of course, there is a reason for all this. One must never be criticised but definitely one always has the right to incite anti-Black racism without Blacks daring to challenge such persons. Gathering like vultures, there’s a mounting and ubiquitous presence of the aforementioned and others like Maureen Lipman, Claudia Winkleman, Howard Stern and Richard Quest. Meghan’s presence has ‘others’ attend court as though to stake their claim and make it clear that one matters most and ought not be side-lined.

Falashas have been Jewish since long before converso Europeans became Ashkenazi Jews. Imagine, the state of Israel, committing genocide without so much as one nation on the planet, pausing to shine a light and say, wait a minute, you, Israel, committing genocide? There is no terror greater than the terror of bullying others into silence. How in god’s name do you justify targeting and sterilising the Black Ethiopian Jews, living in Israel, leaving their population diminished by 50 percent? Then again, why should one be remotely surprised? Apartheid existed not for the convenience of the Afrikaner; it was about the Oppenheimers, Shapiros and other Jewish families who control the diamond mining industry. Apartheid was much like the arrangement in Nevis, which saw Brazilian Jews – of which I am descended – engaging in the cotton trade during slavery with one caveat that enslaved Blacks were allowed to will land to their descendants thereby allowing Jews to be in Nevis without technically participating in slavery. Apartheid was another system like the one in Nevis, which was used to technically get around the obvious enslavement of Black South Africans and the hellish work conditions they endure in the diamond mining industry.

Catherine, George & William at Wimbledon, 2022

One thing is perfectly clear in all of this, in 20 years time, when HM King Charles III has long given way to HM King William V, HRH Prince George, Prince of Wales will get married. This, of course, like his parents’ marriage, will be staged at a time when there needs to be a surge in economic activity, boosting the kingdom’s wealth. Without doubt, all the grandstanding and vitriol being orchestrated here and now against Meghan, the Black duchess, will have been for one purpose only, to have William and Catherine favour a Jewish wife for George. This will the crowning achievement for Jews the world over and, of course, with a Jewish mother, thereafter the BRF becomes a very Jewish monarchy. Now it will be William and Catherine’s karma to have this whole affair blow up in their face. As with his father, William, George does have a 5 in the fourth position. This will assure that not only will he cheat on his Jewish wife but he will most likely seek to dissolve their marriage and as she is Jewish, he would be readily killed off, conveniently by accident. In that way, she stays as head of the very Jewish dynasty and her heirs affording that the Crown Jewels remain in Jewish control. If this were to happen it would occur before William’s death and after George’s Jewish wife has had royal children. In the end, William would lose the dynasty to Jews because not trusting and betraying family will be a hostile lesson to have to learn from the opposite perspective whilst still incarnate. In short, what he’s done to Harry and Meghan is likely to be returned to him via his son’s Jewish wife. Never should one be surprised by the staggering stupidity of anti-Black racist Whites.

Sam Waley Cohen

With inner circle stalwarts like Sam Waley Cohen, why else do you think there has been this global attack on Meghan, demonising her and making her the most hated Black woman in history as the Fleet Street abattoirs do as directed from the Bourbon bastard and his handlers? Meghan has been lynched like no other Black person in history as those who matter fiercely show their fealty to the future Sovereign William whose prejudice against Blacks is both readily discernible and documented. The threat of Meghan will be radically addressed with a course correction that will see the Windsors becoming a Jewish dynasty much as America’s visceral response to the effrontery of President Obama gave way to the biggest liar, buffoon, conman who proved the great White hope, though he was twice impeached and treasonously attempted a coup. So, too, will George’s Jewish spouse be seen as the second coming of Mary. Indeed, Charles and the Courtesan’s affair gave way to opportunistic King Juan Carlos, a Bourbon bastard and though not returning the kingdom to the Church of Rome, instead, delivers it up in hostile takeover to become the ultimate status of Jewish ascendancy. There will never be a single negative article about George’s Jewish Queen and the Fleet Street abattoirs will see to it that she is more loved and revered than HLM Queen Elizabeth II and all within a century of her long reign.

Hasidic Wedding

Oh my, wouldn’t that be just grand, King William V’s great-granddaughter and future sovereign’s wedding to an Orthodox Jew from one of the more conservative rabbinical families of Israel. Of course, unlike at the Sussexes wedding won’t anyone be openly ridiculing the ‘other’s’ quaint customs. This would be such sweet poetic karmic justice. As for the British tabloids, they will be most deferential to the ‘spiritually’ evolved new dynasty… so many duchies to invent.

All this because George’s father and mother, William and Catherine, are vile racists who did not want the most otiose of cushim in their midst. This probable future could not eventualise fast enough. Just like that, you lose the empire and will never get it back. Never again will the kingdom be ruled by wholesome blue-blooded protestants. Just as William has been most violently opposed to Black blood tainting the royal bloodlines, so too his handlers know that he is too damn stupid to realise that in a single generation, they are going to be able to wrestle and launch a hostile takeover of the United Kingdom’s monarchy, changing it for all time from a protestant dynasty begun by Tudor matriarch, Margaret Beaufort – now reincarnated as Meghan Markle – and changing it to Jewish dynasty with Rothschild interests as per the protestations of that blasted pussy, Ben Goldsmith.

Here were the Waleses in Los Angeles, in July 2011. This was part of their first royal tour that brought them to Canada to celebrate Canada Day, July 1, 2011. Then next they deplaned in Los Angeles where they were hosted by the Los Angeles wing of BAFTA. To date they still have not been on a royal tour to Kenya where the Prince of Wales proposed. As he is the president of BAFTA, both the Oscars and BAFTAs sneakily acquired a name change, becoming an international film awards. This enables the overwhelmingly aggressive awarding of an American acting award to Britons and for no other reasons as Hollywood is in the thrall of the Court of St. James where rubbing shoulders with aristocrats and royals is the ultimate sign of Hollywood exclusivity.

Legally, only a film festival can be open to actors from diverse countries to be eligible to be both nominated and win acting awards. The current arrangement of rebranding the Oscars international does not make it a film festival; thus, Britons are not eligible to be nominated nor win Oscars. Of course, like the diamond mining and trade in South Africa, Hollywood is not principally an Armenian industry. William as president of BAFTA ventured to Hollywood to serve the interests of British actors but chiefly, he was there at the request of the same diamond consortia who would push him to have Meghan removed from the royal family. You can take the titles all you want but you would also have to murder Harry, Meghan, Archie and Lilibet Diana to put an end to the threat they pose for being so senior in succession rank. Of course, such persons are perfectly capable of doing just that, in the meantime, they demonise the Black woman to make her and family’s elimination no surprise if it were to happen.

Just consider this, Meghan whilst a senior working royal never once wore a tiara, except at her wedding. That, I can assure you, had much to do with the power brokers who saw the Waleses lashing out and waging a campaign against Black Meghan being in the royal family. That cushim should not be allowed to wear a diamond-filled tiara. No better have the Waleses been than Orly Taitz, Tom Bower, Bethenny Frankel, Angela Levin in inciting anti-Black racism towards Meghan, Duchess of Sussex all for rising above her station. Needless to say, Princess Michael of Kent sported the blackamoor brooch as her show of solidarity with the Waleses and those Jews who were violently opposed to a Black being highly placed within the royal family. Just as Lady Susan Hussey could be removed then made to publicly apologised which was a real bit of White voodoo, so too, HLM Queen Elizabeth II ought to have stripped Princess Michael of Kent of her HRH title and had her publicly apologise to Meghan and Henry. Instead, the flat-arsed, racist snob was sat in the quire at the Sussexes’ royal wedding because The Queen will not be told what to do. Furthermore, as her cancerous immolation endured, The Queen tore her arse in the Sussexes’ faces by her antics at the Platinum Jubilee – seating at St. Paul’s Cathedral and being banned from the balcony at Trooping the Colour.

Back in mid-Autumn 1988 after Merlin had been hospitalised with his first bout of AIDS-related pneumocystis and suffered a punctured lung in the process, we were at dinner at his ‘folks’ as he lovingly called his journalist parents. Looking south out the dining room window at 36 Servington Crescent, where in summer you then got an unobstructed view of the lake dotted with egret-looking yachts, we lovingly admired the rain-blackened bark of the magnolia tree that Merlin had planted at age seven. That evening, his younger brother, with whom I enjoyed relations than can best be charitably described as hissing, thankfully was not present. Merlin’s mum always waited for his arrival before cooking dinner as he was a superior cook to her and it allowed them quality time together. As for me, I would go down to the basement and his father’s office where we would eat the best soft bread from a Lebanese bakery in the neighbourhood (Yonge Street). As Merlin pointed out, if my dad shares bread with you, you are family; this is something he also lovingly did on the occasions I attended their home when his writer colleague Pierre Berton was present – breads, breads, breads and more breads. Soon enough, talk turned to literature and writers and Barbara Amiel came up in conversation. Because of the stance she took with support of Apartheid South Africa, Merlin always dismissively referred to her as that Semite. As Merlin argued with his father, her inexcusable position was merely in support of the Jewish diamond cartel, he flatly stated. Merlin had stopped smoking Pall Mall cigarettes as they were connected to Apartheid South African and rigorously campaigned to have his friends stop smoking that and other South African owned brands of cigarettes. Needless to say, Amiel Black has chimed in on the Negro in the palace and you can bet she too disputes Meghan’s claim of racism as does Tom Bower. She nor anyone else Jewish will ever make mention of the blackamoor brooch incident as this is in keeping with Jewish denial that there is any such thing as anti-Black racism. More proof that the wagons have firmly encircled the Waleses and Prince George will have a lovely Jewish wedding, starting the shift of the kingdom from a protestant to a Jewish dynasty, which will never shift back to being protestant. Most of all, how dare that damn cushim, being more senior a royal than their engineered coup of having Sophie Winkleman marry into the royal family and to Princess Blackamoor Brooch’s son no less, which, I suppose, would make the BRF Jewish by proxy.

L to R: Me feeding a cat, actor Wayne Robson, Merlin’s brother, Merlin and his writer father in our Cabbagetown back garden, summer 1988.

In any event, Barbara is a prime example of why one should never take a position on someone and not back down. Long after Merlin’s passing, my position and I am confident Merlin’s, too, had he lived, considerably changed. I paid close attention to her spouse, Conrad Black’s trial in Chicago; I was much impressed how each day this woman got up, put her face on, elegantly strode into the court house past the world’s media and was never anything but dignified. Mr. Black did time but there is no need to have held stridently to former perceptions of her. After all, she attended a Rosedale dinner, here in Toronto, where Nelson Mandela was being feted. And that’s coming a long way after her positions in the Toronto Sun newspaper. In the end, she is wedded to the most brilliant intellect in the English-speaking world, if not the world, and for that, it would be juvenile to not admire the woman; she also happens to be a great writer in her own right. To spend a lifetime despising her for her position during Apartheid, ultimately is nothing more than ugly anti-Semitism.

If indeed Meghan were a bully and difficult, her character Rachel Zane on Suits would have been written out of the show within one season; Meghan lasted 7 seasons. There are multiple unions involved in all film and TV productions; you run afoul of anyone, the union gets involved and soon enough after investigations, you are outright fired or quietly written out of the production. Similarly, If Meghan were a kleptomaniac whilst working on Suits, merely for changing countries, she would remain a kleptomaniac in Britain. Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has yet to be accused of having stolen the purloined Crown Jewels – though I would not put it past the fuckers.

What Meghan has dramatised to the entire world, is the damage to the psyche, indeed, the very soul of the island kingdom, that having been an enslaving, dehumanising, racist – architects of Apartheid – empire, Britons one and all have generationally suffered and become from Queen Elizabeth I through to Queen Elizabeth II to HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales. The latter’s second number of 9 (mindset) reveals him to be a bigot with an intense anti-Black racist animus.

Just look at this old fraud; she grabbed that handbag, the white gloves, the right brooch and hat, smiled and waved and the little old lady schtick only worked to her benefit. The longer she lived the more her façade dropped away, revealing her true unsightly visage. Knowing that William and Catherine were bigots, who refused to go on royal tours to predominantly Black commonwealth countries, The Queen readily approved the marriage of Henry and Meghan. After all, it would be a plus for her legacy to show how far the kingdom had come and all during her reign. Unfortunately, what she had not anticipated was the response of the Waleses; they knew that she had cancer and they wanted it made perfectly clear that they did not want Meghan within the royal family. Perhaps William saw this as his chance to avenge his mum’s murder by The Queen. In sacrificing Meghan, he was paying back a debt for his mum’s murder. The banishment of the Sussexes from the kingdom was William’s way of sabotaging The Queen’s legacy before she was dead and buried; of course, he knew damn well that the trusty Fleet Street Abattoirs would gladly blame that blasted cushim, Meghan, for Philip and Elizabeth’s deaths.

HLM Queen Elizabeth II Canker-Infested Legs May 2016, Before Harry Met Meghan

Just after her 90th birthday in 2016, HM Queen Elizabeth began showing signs of her emergent cancer with canker sores at the shins; this was long before Meghan appeared on the scene. Phillip just got tired of living a lie with the little garden gnome wife from whom for decades, he had been long estranged as everyone knew but chose not to see.

Catherine, HRH Princess of Wales Abandoning Tiara Etiquette in 2011 & 2022

Possessed as they both are of 9 in their numerological makeup, it means that William and Catherine can always be counted on to be difficult; in Catherine’s case a 9 energy body is the signature of the shit-disturber. There is a good reason why Catherine would have worn her hair down at her wedding; she was thumbing her nose at the tabloids and aristocracy, who objected to her marrying above her station and let her know it, going on a decade. It was subtle but it was not surprising for someone with an energy body of 9 and also someone marrying her task companion. She would be guaranteed to fight back. William likely did not know that she would wear her hair down and frankly he is so damn stupid that he probably paid no notice just as he did not know to remain stood in the carriage and assist his new wife in, until she was comfortably sat. Instead, he sat back to the horse, then sat properly never stood up and kept pushing away her wedding gown as she clearly sat too close to him – how could central casting have gotten this one so wrong, then again, there was a mix up in the coupling, if only Charles had done his honeymoon duties. HM The Queen who had been mentored by HM Queen Mary would have taken note of Catherine’s hair being down and not approved. One does not wear hair down when wearing a tiara… never. Going on a school run, shopping at Waitrose, yes. Just imagine if Meghan were to have done this at her wedding; of course, the campaign to remove the effrontery of her Black blood within the senior royal ranks meant that she was banished to her American homeland before having an opportunity to ever wear a tiara again.

Eh voilà, all the signs you ever needed, unless you are the blind, island kingdom cultists, who choose never to see beyond the fairy story, which got really idyllic and the Waleses the epitome of White supremacy and wholesomeness as soon as Meghan appeared at the ball. Thought they are lined up as per line of succession? There is though lots more at play in this photograph. Catherine walks a little behind and holding Louis’s hand, who does not hold his sister, Charlotte’s hand. William, though, is holding George’s hand who in turn is holding Charlotte’s.

Remember this spectacle. Little Damian Ainslie’s coming out. At no point, was he ever sat next to or held by his father, William, neither was he ever related to by Prince George as William’s firstborn is already well aware that William is not the bastard’s father. That explains why, William, in the Christmas 2022 family photograph, is not walking between both sons and holding either’s hand. Rather he is connected to George and Charlotte by handholding, who in turn are not holding hands with Louis/Damian and their mother, Catherine.

William simply has nothing to do with Louis, which is precisely why Louis acted out the way he did at the Jubilee celebrations and all that Catherine, who was down the way and not sat with Louis between her and William for comfort and anchoring him, could do, was sit there and take Louis’s abuse and sheepishly peer down at William from time to time. Instead, yet again he was sat apart from William, of whom he is likely terrified – his mindset of 9 would trigger operatic screaming which would leave Damian/Louis, who instinctually knows that William is not his father, ever fearful of the man who has clearly long ago rejected him. Indeed, during the Jubilee parade last June, 2022, Damian was sent to sit on his step-grandfather and soon to be king, HM King Charles III’s lap. Though William has his lovechild with Rose, Countess Rocksavage who cannot be explained away in public family outings, Catherine who was pregnant, could bring her lovechild with Ben Ainslie everywhere after all one would naturally assume that the child is William’s.

Charles & Diana’s Royal Wedding July 29, 1981

At the end of it all, William has been undeniably outed as the architect of the Kensington Palace leaks to the Fleet Street abattoirs against Meghan. Enough of him.

Harry & Meghan’s Royal Wedding May 19, 2018

Princely royal wedding day etiquette could not be clearer. The prince enters the carriage first and assists his wife’s entry into the carriage. This, of course, was the case for both Diana and Meghan, their chivalrous princes entered the carriage, is stood welcoming them inside and only after they are comfortably sat, is he rightly sat.

William & Catherine’s Royal Wedding April 29, 2011

No such luck when it comes to good old conceited and archly unaware Bourbon Billy. He gets into the carriage, sits rather than is stood there, not only does he improperly sits with back to horses and then shifts to the correct carriage seat, rather than is stood welcoming in his new wife to the carriage. Further, conceited Bourbon Billy thinks more of his Irish Guard’s uniform as he brushes off Catherine’s exquisite Alexander McQueen wedding gown off his uniform. Are we then surprised that as revealed by Harry, William is the controlling pain in the arse that his numerology betrays? Just look at him, eight times after Catherine was sat next to him, he edged away from her, fidgeted and acted as though she was sat much too close to him?

Lindsay Wallace & Peter Phillips Arrive by Carriage to Royal Ascot, 2022

Lindsay Wallace, 40, Scottish, divorced with two kids. Finalised in June 2021, Peter Phillips was now free to pursue Lindsay, whose Scottish father is a multimillionaire oilman. Lindsay attended Gordonstoun with Peter’s sister, Zara Tindall. She is in the family fold. Why, though, when she is neither fiancée nor wife did she arrive on day one of Royal Ascot 2022 with the then Cambridges presiding. Of course, The Queen was then dying of cancer.

The soon-to-be Prince of Wales made a point of being sociable and engaging with Lindsay Wallace. Catherine also made a point of being engaging with Ms. Wallace in the royal box at Royal Ascot, 2022. There is no sense of Catherine or William being ill at ease in the presence of Lindsay. Is it because she is not a Yank, Black, nor intelligent therefore deemed a non-threat. The way that the then Cambridges behaved and socialised with Ms. Wallace, he being welcoming of Lindsay into the fold, validates how much the now Waleses were keen on freezing out Meghan. In light of what we learnt in the Netflix documentary and the Lady Susan Hussey and Jeremy Clarkson episodes, Meghan is way too good to be in any capacity associated with these snobbish racist asshats. William’s sucking up to Lindsay Wallace for being hyper wealthy, White and British illustrates how easy it will be for he and Catherine’s Jewish handlers to readily sway this man into having George marry into the faith and thereby lose the dynasty outright.

Courtesan Queen Holding Court at Mayfair’s Murano

As the Courtesan Queen does not give a damn, she entertained her courtiers at Mayfair’s Murano. What does she care about revealing her hand, she has gotten what she wanted by bullying it out of the cancer-stricken Misogynist Queen. She is Queen Consort, sorry, Courtesan Queen.

Courtesan Queen Hosting Vile Racists Who Have Been Open In Their Animus of Meghan, Duchess of Duchess

Mayfair’s Murano recently hosted members of the Courtesan Queen’s inner circle, which of course was a show of support after Netflix’s Harry & Meghan docuseries. Naturally, persons who have been most openly critical and racially predatory towards Meghan were in attendance, chief among them, Piers Morgan, Jeremy Clarkson and Judi Dench. Naturally, there were Jews present to the exclusion of East Indians, Chinese or Black Britons; Claudia Winkleman, Maureen Lipman. Additionally, also present were: Maggie Smith, Tess Daly, Chris Evans, Tom Parker Bowles, Tracey Emin, Hugh Bonneville.

Within 24 hours of their little kissy kissy boosh boosh, there appeared Jeremy Clarkson’s commentary in The Sun in which he fantasised about Meghan being paraded naked throughout each town of the kingdom and stoned with human faeces.

Classic Response from A Jew As Per BrandyBreath. Ignore It Of Course As Long As Its Blacks But Definitely Not if It Were Deemed Anti-Semitic.

This is not an apology, not that it matters. It is no business of Meghan’s or anyone Black what the fuck you think. You are racist scum. Go on, fuck off and crawl into your casket and rot in hell, with the Queen because we all know beyond the schtick, she was damn racist – the royal documentary of June 1969 irrefutably validates as much.

The sickness of some Whites: their every reaction to someone Black is instinctually negative, most are often never even aware that they are engaging in racially predatory unconscious bias. Trust me, your perceptions of us is just that, a symptom of your having been savagely enslaving during which time, you lost your humanity. We Blacks, I can assure you, do not care anymore than we either care or need to go lay in the Sun to look good.

How Gullible Do These People Look to Those Eager to Usurp the Crown Jewels via Prince George’s Marriage?

4 days and counting and there has been not a single word form the Courtesan Queen, Tampax King, Peggalicious Bourbon Billy and partially animated Sodden Cardboard. Why am I not surprised? Of course, in a move never indulged by his predecessor, Tampax King released a message on the eve of Chanukah; twenty years and counting down indeed.

Courtesan Queen Deplanes In Edinburgh and Rudely Abandons Protocol and Retires to Limousine

From deliberately ignoring tiara etiquette to doing as one damn well pleases. Obviously, the Courtesan Queen was relieved that the Misogynist Queen finally got off the stage. Don’t you worry, just pray that you predecease the Tampax King or else you will be muzzled and crop-whipped by Catherine as well she damn well ought to. Seabiscuit aka Courtesan Queen it was, who had driven Catherine from the palace, thereby causing a break in William and Catherine’s decade-long courtship. Just look at this blasted shrew snubbing Nicola Sturgeon – who yes is a pill and half – to go sit in the limousine whilst The Late Queen’s body was not yet returned to London.

Prissy Presented At Court

In Meghan, the Waleses and the Courtesan Queen otherwise known as Seabiscuit – who clearly stormed free of the Windsor stables – were expecting to have their very own Prissy in their midst, instead they got a forthright, self-made, intelligent, articulate woman, all the things that mumbling, social climbing boor, Catherine is not. Once removed from court, though the tabloids defamed Meghan’s character no end, the royals have managed to do themselves in rather handsomely. Indeed, the grave you did for others will be the one you fall into. Meghan took a look and thought the gig absurd, they ravaged her as so many Blacks experience for being the lone Black entering into a White institution. Finally, Henry made the call and they walked. Bravo!

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Coeur de Loup Philipppe Lafontaine In Concert

After having just looked at episodes 4 through 6 of Meghan & Harry A Netflix Docuseries. Let’s just get up and shake our ass and remove ourselves from all that dross that is the House of Windsor – Victorian Misogynist, Tampax King, Seabiscuit aka Courtesan Queen, Peggalicious and Catherine with her lovechild, Damian, with Big Ben. When living in Montréal for seven years what made an otherwise hellish work experience tolerable, was the music that ensouls the nation’s distinctly unique culture. From Isabelle Boulay, to Lara Fabian, Mitsou, Patricia Kaas and, of course, Céline Dion plus so many others. Indeed, until you’ve lived in Québec, you do not truly get the soul of Canada, just as it is also imperative that you explore and appreciate the culture of First Nations peoples.

L to R: Lilibet Diana, Henry, Archie & Meghan

Bravely and rather admirably, the Sussexes have told their story. Most of all, as if I had not been intermittently crying but as the closing credits of episode 6 began rolling, the music was Nancy Wilson singing “How Glad I AM.” This is the very same Jazz music chosen for this blog’s last post dated, December 2, 2022, 6 days before the first 3 episodes of Netflix’s Harry & Meghan dropped. I was immediately reminded how I was compelled to feverishly pen the blog on November 15, 2021, a day after HM King Charles III’s birthday as the most lucid astral plane dream was dreamt the day prior, November 13, 2021. There was no mistaking the fact that the dream presaged HM Queen Elizabeth II’s death in the coming year; for this reason, I simply had to write the blog so that after the fact, no one could roll their eyes, if I were to have chosen to share the dream after The Queen’s passing in September 2022.

Tyler Perry 13. 9. 1969 Rooster 4. 4. 2 = 1

Truly, Tyler Perry is a Prince among mere titled reborn bigots who are nothing more than stewards of an ancient dynasty. Too bad though that Prince William and Catherine, Princess of Wales are on the cusp of woefully undoing six hundred years of Protestantism all because of their blind bigotry. Serves them right too.

The most memorable Nancy Wilson Jazz performance, I enjoyed in winter 1993 when Milan Newcombe and I flew into New York City for the weekend, to attend the Blue Note Jazz Club concert. Milan lived in a magical loft on Spadina Avenue in Kensington Market. He was adorably eccentric rather than crazy – who needs the drama? He was 10.5 inches of intense powerful sex. Though I rarely bottom, I most definitely never bottom for any cock less than 9.5 inches. Milan and I had spent a glorious weekend in May 1992 in Montréal where we attended the 350th anniversary of the founding of the city. I spent the evening walking the city streets where the night time parade coursed down Boulevard St. Laurent, the city’s main drag. Milan that afternoon had decided that we had to attend the parade in masks and costumes, all of which we found at a costume shop at St. Laurent and rue Ontario Est. He insisted and as he was such an exciting lover, for the first time, I wore six-inch black patent leather Bally talons hauts (high heels) thus giving birth to at least a dozen of my known 72 personalities – this an aunt declared of me on a visit to Nevis; the wife of an uncle whom no one liked, she was without pretentions and ready to set the record straight on everything – she was great fun and we got on riotously well.

We sat close to the stage and dined on delicious fare. I had a bit too much Cointreau but as ever, Nancy’s performance was sublime. On our return to Toronto, though Milan’s music library exceeded 1000 recordings and spanned 3.5 centuries – most of it harpsichord recordings and yes he did have a harpsichord, which he played nightly after noisily ploughing me into sweet surrender – we listened to Nancy’s recording of How Glad I Am. Indeed, I had introduced Milan to Jazz, which he voraciously explored, listening to various recordings late into the night. Naturally, he was smitten with Oscar Peterson whose trio we caught one cold wintry evening on Bloor Street West, in Yorkville’s Bermuda Onion. On occasion, Milan managed to play some of Oscar’s recordings on his marvellously magical harpsichord, late at night in his purple-interiored salon lit throughout by candlelight.

Oscar Peterson Trio Live in Denmark 1964

C Jam Blues

Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Ed Thigpen – Drums

Listen to you, talking shit about Jazz has its roots in Klezmer; then again that gold and diamond thieves are liars should come as no surprise. Jazz is the music of the people whom though enslaved – one continues to make money off (Meghan by way of peddling anti-Black racism) – openly revile, hate and vilify, our spirit remains indomitable. We are a people whose spirit you’ll never break because Jazz, like all great art, cannot be mined from veins of vile, racist hatefulness.

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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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