Theft of the American Crown Jewels…

These are America’s Crown Jewels.

1. Cambodian Crown Jewels, British Art Dealer 2. Koh-i-Noor Diamond, Imperial State Crown of UK 3. Benin Bronzes, British Museum 4. Elgin Marbles, British Museum

Like the Cambodian Crown Jewels, the Kohinoor, the Benin Bronzes and the Elgin Marbles, the rapacious barbarians of the island kingdom must have them. If it is of value then it is theirs for the taking as it has been for 1.5 millennia, most especially so for the last century with regards American awards and the last half millennium through enslavement of African peoples, the spoils of Apartheid at the dehumanising expense of South Africa’s millennia aged original inhabitants. Justifying that rape and pillage has occurred with a reanimation of Brahminism.

When Will Smith walked onstage at the 94th Academy Awards and slapped Chris Rock; he kicked opened the doors for a sea-change; however, at the time, no one could quite perceive the event for the golden opportunity it actually is. Within days of the shocking event, the violent Black man who to that point had the squeakiest image in Hollywood, at least for a Black man, was dealt with. The Academy board of governors decided to ban Will Smith from appearing at the Oscars for ten years.

Back in the autumn of 1983, Merlin and I were holding up in actor, Joe Morton’s Upper West Side one-bedroom apartment that looked south. It was there that we took vows and became committed to each other until one of us passed… we kept those vows. Joe was off in England filming a television series whilst I nursed an injury caused when in a nasty car crash. We looked at a lot of film from Joe’s library, one of which was Black Orpheus. One evening, Merlin cooked a chicken paprikash and had two other couples over, both Black. There was talk about the Oscars earlier that year and how exciting it was that Louis Gossett Jr. had one best-supporting actor Oscar for An Officer And A Gentleman, which was a landmark first. After dinner and more great sex, we returned to the discussion about the Oscars that year and Hollywood politics. I had failed to see anything exciting about winning a best-supporting actor rather than best actor Oscar. Merlin in his charming way made an analogy after he declared that not in our lifetimes would a Black woman ever win best actress Oscar; Merlin was also just brutality pragmatic and honest that way.

Hollywood, Merlin stating the obvious, was a business of make-believe where one staged the desired outcome. In that sense, Merlin shared it was the greatest propaganda tool. It is a world where reality is made in the image of what those in control, would want it to be; in such a reality, Blacks could never be seen to be triumphant. Merlin then touched on the 1936 Olympics in Berlin where Jesse Owens won four gold medals before the debased terror, Adolf Hitler, thereby shattering his belief and propaganda of a master race that’s superior and always the winner. That event, said Merlin, was a real time event which could not be manipulated to achieve the desired outcome as Hitler would have it. Then, said Merlin, Hollywood and its awards are the antithesis of real time events like the Olympics. In the world of Hollywood, even if nominated, Blacks simply were never going to be allowed to win Oscars, just being nominated was good enough and a show of Hollywood elitists’ largesse. Hollywood said Merlin is a Jewish town, after all, and thus Blacks could never be expected to win Oscars, unlike winning Grammys or even Tonys. Besides, said Merlin, Hollywood elites were obsessed with making it in London society and were in bed with royals and getting to play in the truly big leagues. At the time, that angle escaped me; however, he had made the reference to Ben Kinsley winning best actor Oscar that year for his phenomenal performance in Gandhi which Merlin and I had seen the autumn prior at the Ziegfeld Cinema on West 54th Street at midnight, which I then thought the height of sophistication.

The following afternoon, Shawn Kerwin dropped by whilst we listened to the marathon live matinée broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera Centennial Gala. Shawn had designed the golden rolodex which was on display at Lincoln Center and dropped by as she would soon be designing a play back in Toronto that Merlin would be directing. The concert was mind-blowing; we made more love, napped into evening, made more love and then had dinner in the neighbourhood, came home and talked long into the night after he finished devouring another book. As was customary in those nightly discussions, we revisited the talk of the Oscars. Merlin apologised if he sounded pessimistic but he assured me that not during our lifetimes would a Black woman win best actress Oscar. Alas, that proved true for him and just about true for me; truth be told, if 9/11 had not occurred, Halle Berry would not have won best actress Oscar at the 2002 Oscars.

Along with Will Smith slapping Chris Rock – as well he damn well ought to have, based on the latter’s hideous Netflix special of March 2023 – the unfolding drama of the Sussexes has made total sense of Merlin’s predictions of four decades earlier. I have come to see how Hollywood keeps Black actresses at bay by favouring Britons and other White non-Americans. This is not just a disservice to American cinema but it is also illegal activity. I came to see how in Meghan, Duchess of Sussex’s lynching at the hands of the Prince & Princess of Wales in concert with the Courtesan Queen cast greater insights to what causes the embargo on Black actresses winning a best actress Oscar. William is president of BAFTA which has its only foreign branch in Hollywood, which it dubiously called BAFTA North America – it has nothing to do with Canada and everything to exclusively do with Hollywood.

So why after their wedding and their first royal tour to Canada did William and Catherine, now Prince & Princess of Wales, travel to Los Angeles? As the newly minted president of BAFTA he had to be feted in Hollywood where he was expected to continue the tradition of British film artists, being disproportionately represented and winning at an American awards. They had to continue a relationship begun by Prince Philip in 1959 as first President of BAFTA. As a fledging awards, BAFTA desperately needed the cachet that the Oscars afford; old world Hollywood glamour, worldwide brand recognition and star power that remains unsurpassed.

From Prince Philip 1959 to 1965, the baton was passed on Prince Louis Battenberg (Earl Louis Mountbatten 1966 to 1972, Princess Anne, Princess Royal 1973 to 2001. Next up was Lord Richard Attenborough 2002 to 2010; the current BAFTA president, Prince William, Prince of Wales from 2010 to present.

So with the current BAFTA president, we get Tom Hanks sitting in the royal box at a Aston Villa game and we all know that this football team has been BAFTA president, William’s favourite team since childhood. The day after, Tom’s wife, Rita Wilson, attended the 2023 BAFTA Awards where its President, which is customary, rowed with his hawkish wife, Catherine, Princess of Wales. Another example of influence peddling, Mr. Hanks is a multiple Oscar winner, two-time Oscar winner Michael Douglas and his Welsh wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones live in an apartment at St. James’s Palace. Again, Oscar winners are favoured and you can bet that these American Oscar winners have been afforded honorary membership in members clubs like Annabel’s as part of the influence peddling as the BAFTA president hobnobs with Hollywood movers and shakers, in a bid to secure work and Oscar nominations for Britons working in Hollywood.

Well, if the angry Black male, Will Smith, is going to be censored for disrupting the Oscar telecast then Tom Hanks and the Douglas Zeta-Joneses should lose their Oscar vote for clearly engaging in influence peddling with the president of BAFTA. The Windsors are notorious for engaging in sketchy business deals, what with the now King Charles III, taking bags of cash from Saudi members of the Bin Laden family. There would also be nothing to stop William and his predecessors from engaging in accommodating Hollywood A listers for the sake of securing nominations for Britons at what is an American awards, the Oscars; of course, in keeping with all that elbow rubbing offered by royals, the Tonys, Grammys and Emmys will gladly favour British talent. It is not America’s responsibility to provide work for British actors and industry professionals. With a populations five times as large as the UK’s, there is clearly a dearth of talent out there, such that America never needs to go courting or employing Britons over Americans. And that it is all about influence peddling and getting to hobnob with royals, where do you see Americans favouring Canadian talent, which relative to UK’s is considerable with a population twice as large as Canada’s should see more Canadian actors being nominated and winning Oscars all this time.

1. The Great Ziegfeld Luise Rainer, 1936 2. The Good Earth Luise Rainer, 1937 3. Gone With The Wind Vivien Leigh, 1939 4. Suspicion Joan Fontaine, 1941 5. Mrs. Miniver Greer Garson, 1942 6. To Each His Own Olivia de Havilland, 1946 7. The Heiress Olivia de Havilland, 1949 8. A Streetcar Named Desire Vivien Leigh, 1951 9. Butterfield 8 Elizabeth Taylor, 1960 10. Mary Poppins Julie Andrews, 1964

Just look at this, 20 best actress Oscars afforded British actresses for an American award.

11. Darling Julie Christie, 1965 12. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf Elizabeth Taylor, 1966 13. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie Maggie Smith, 1969 14. Women in Love Glenda Jackson, 1970 15. A Touch of Class Glenda Jackson, 1973 16. Driving Miss Daisy Jessica Tandy, 1989 17. Howards End Emma Thompson, 1992 18. The Queen Helen Mirren, 2006 19. The Reader Kate Winslet, 2008 20. The Favourite Olivia Colman, 2018

Naturally, with the House of Windsor involved, acquiring Oscars is infinitely easier accomplished than trying to spirit the great pyramids of Giza to London, which if it were possible, there’d likely be one at the expanded forecourt of the British Museum, one on The Regent’s Park and the other in Hyde Park. Obviously, Princess Anne’s tenure as BAFTA president likely saw her innate disdain for Yanks and general arrogance rule, which resulted in little return on investment. The same was true when Louis Mountbatten was BAFTA president. Of course, with Woody Allen, Steven Spielberg on Epstein’s flight manifests and Roman Polanski being too ‘special’ to prosecute, Old Dickie was in his element in Hollywood. Let’s face it, the IRA had nothing to do with Mountbatten’s explosive demise, born 25.6.1900 Year of the Rat, as ever numbers never lie. 7.4.5 = 7. Two 7s and a 5 alluding to sexual scandal; one or more 7s especially if one is placed in the fourth position, will indicate assassination of a public figure. In Mountbatten’s case, the poor villagers were sick of their sons being preyed on by a known paedophile and that was that.

1. Amorous Prince David, Prince of Wales & Earl Mountbatten in India. 2. David & Louis frolicking in Hawaii. 3. David & Louis playing. 4. Prince Charles, Prince of Wales & Earl Mountbatten. 5. Charles & Mountbatten. 6. Prince Charles, Prince of Wales & Jimmy Savile. 7. Gary Glitter. 8. Jimmy Savile & Gary Glitter. 9. Steven Spielberg & BAFTA President, Richard Attenborough. 10. Steven Spielberg & Harvey Weinstein. 11. Jeffrey Epstein, Prince Andrew, Duke of York, Woody Allen, Bill Clinton & Donald Trump. 12. Prince Andrew & Jeffrey Epstein. 13. Jeffrey Epstein & Donald Trump. 14. Prince Charles & Equerry Jonathan Thompson. 14 Prince Charles & Valet Michael Fawcett.

Prince Louis of Battenberg aka Earl Louis Mountbatten was human and it would certainly not have been the first time that persons associated with the House of Windsor, have had a preference for minor meat or favoured paedophiles. Sexual predators who are deemed untouchable for being of royal, Queer or Jewish persuasion rule a town called Hollywood and you can bet your bottom dollar that there is no room in their worldview for Black actresses being worthy enough for best actress Oscars. I’ll always remember going to an Upper West Side dinner party in winter 1983 whilst Merlin was in Toronto, working on Fraggle Rock with Jim Henson and talk of Hollywood came up. I was with a dancer who was transitioning to the world of fashion and design and successfully at that. Before then, he had lived for a couple of years with a famous actor in Hollywood; he hated having a sugar daddy so returned to New York. Aaron, who was great fun, died too young of AIDS but I’ll always remember his assessment of Hollywood: the world’s most exclusive escort service successfully masquerading as an entertainment business. “It is nothing more than Mecca if you are a sexual predator.” Two others at that dinner party wholeheartedly agreed with Aaron’s perception. Aaron had the thickest cock I have yet in all my years seen; thankfully, he happened to have been the most aggressive bottom yet encountered.

Indeed, what Merlin implied by not in our lifetimes, would there be a Black best actress Oscar winner, is that the Oscar is the penultimate icon of White female exclusivity and superiority. It is the most racist iconography in American culture. It is also tied to the UK Royal family in a display of American inferiority complex after having fought a war to be rid of Britons and their monarchy. Especially sobering is the fact that the very President of BAFTA, Prince William, Prince of Wales has been outed in his brother, Prince Harry’s phenomenal royal memoir, SPARE, as being the leader of the racially predatory campaign of harassment, mental, emotional and likely physical abuse, all of which was glaringly accomplished with the tacit collusion of the Fleet Street abattoirs and persons like Princess Michael of Kent who happens to be the mother of the Prince’s known closest royal friend, Lord Frederick Windsor.

Meghan, an American actress has been treated like absolute filth, yet no one in Hollywood has spoken up in her defence. Meghan’s articulateness and impeccable social skills are seen as reasons enough to resent the ‘Yank’. Moreover, Meghan is that most unacceptable of propositions not just to the British royal family but to the very core of its collective consciousness, Meghan is Black and descended of slaves of which no nation profited more mightily from the enslavement of displaced Black Africans than the British and its royal family. Of course, Hollywood does not care to get involved because the only sanctioned troubled history that is celebrated by the Academy, is the pain, struggle of Jews in Europe which resulted in the Holocaust. For that reason, it is almost an existential threat to the Academy and Hollywood’s sense of self and entitlement to ever have to acknowledge Black American history in America cinema. Indeed, Hollywood has never even done more than exploit the indigenous American population’s rape and pillage of culture and genocide of a people, because as with Black Americans, it would prove more worthy of American cinematic focus for obvious historic reasons than sectarian European history.

Anything and anyone who remotely threatens Hollywood’s sense of self and its agendum of focussing almost exclusively on the Holocaust with respect to what is deemed disturbing history and worthy of being focussed on and highlighted, is simply cancelled. Good god, look at Tom Cruise in what clearly is sectarian bias, no matter how much of a box office champ and how compelling his acting chops have been, an Oscar continues to elude him. Apart from his blockbuster actions films, all of them, what I love about Tom Cruise is how exquisitely he captures young soul angst with his acting. From Rain Man (1988), to Jerry Maguire (1996) or the exquisitely cinematic, Eyes Wide Shut (1999) the man’s a brilliant actor and no one but a young soul would so daringly do his own stunts in film after film after action film. All this deliberate denial because he is a Scientologist; just imagine if Jews were being so targeted and overlooked by the Academy but there it is in bold, unmistakable reality.

Similarly, James Cameron, a Canadian, is simply not great enough of be imbued with genius such that his towering greatness must be celebrated. In 2009, that society that serves as a paragon of racialised superior consciousness (Britain) and arrogantly so, did not award a single BAFTA to James Cameron’s 1997 film, Titanic though receiving 10 nominations. In America that year with 14 nominations, Titanic was awarded 11 Oscars. As far as Britons are concerned, it is not a British film, therefore they do not care and their grudge and disdain for ‘Yanks’ is all the more reason why Titanic was shut out of the BAFTAs. How is this even possible when there was a direct involvement with Britain with this very real and ground-breaking film? The Titanic did set sail from Britain for America; Britons were lost at sea when the Titanic sank.

Not wanting to seem like an afterthought and god forbid a third-tier awards, on taking over as BAFTA president, Richard Attenborough had the awards moved up to February, post Oscars April or May, thereby preceding the Oscars. This afforded the BAFTAs cachet as they were seen as a forerunner of how the Oscar winners would be determined. In a bid to maintain relevance and continue its role of influence peddling in an American industry, BAFTA has set up a wing in Beverly Hills and had the balls to call it the North American wing; leave Canada out of your influence peddling racket, the objective is to influence the Oscar nominations and winners. Of course, in turn Oscar winners find themselves being afforded the exclusivity of the royal treatment as with Tom Hanks at the Aston Villa game on the eve of the 2023 BAFTAs and Oscar winners Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones being allowed to live in an apartment at St. James’s Palace. So that no one should go getting ideas, she is a Briton and he, of course, is Jewish Hollywood royalty and it certainly would not be extended beyond such persons. Certainly, not when the current BAFTA president and his wife and known anti-Black racists.

Thanks to Britons’ gross sense of entitlement and flagrant superiority complex, they do not care what the world thinks. Their awards criteria and their members decide who is deserving of winning a British award and you can bet it won’t be a damn Yank. From Beyoncé being snubbed at the Grammys in favour of Harry Styles then having the Brit Awards favour Harry Styles over anyone else. This fruity little drip regardless how flagrantly he swishes his AMS (arse-munching ‘stache) and cross-dresses, above all else, he is a White male and he will not be ridiculed by radio DJs the world over. I’ll always remember my proud First Nations brief lover whilst at a pow wow in Merritt, B.C. saying, “Gay people are first and always White people… people like you and me do not count at the end of the day.” Sage words indeed. Look at this silly photo of the flagrant little industry-used manwhore, I am reminded of the swell little, ridiculously hysterical French-Canadian actor friend of Merlin’s. From the moment we met, it was evident that it was merely a matter of time before we would be carrying on like gibbons en chaleur. A friend of his had approached Merlin and asked if I would step in for him whilst he covered elsewhere for someone whose lover was severely ill and dying of AIDS. It was supposed to have lasted all of two, at the most, six weeks.

Standing in for a friend of Merlin’s, dressing on Cats at the Elgin Theatre, was a memorable experience because Jean-François and I would be sharing the same floor backstage as the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical printed money like it was going out of style. Post intermission, JF and I would have the most fun. As all theatre folk are predominantly sage souls, which he was, he was entertainingly witty and given to reciting dialogue from a range of Bette Davis films. Mostly, Lauri whose wife also did wigs and makeup was fun to be around as JF and I carried on. One Wednesday, after matinée performance, JF and I returned to the theatre off the Victoria Street tech entrance. We had just rushed down from the top of the street where it dead ends into Ryerson Polytechnic Institute, which now goes by whatever name du jour. As we returned, we were laughing hysterically which Lauri with a sly wink declared, he could well imagine what trouble we’d been up to. Truth be told, we were detained by aggressive security as JF, Toronto Dance Theatre dancer René Highway who was a lover of Merlin’s who preceded me by at least two others, actor Denis Simpson of TV’s Polka Dot Door were caught in a stall together being riotously salacious. Little did I know that as I banged on the side of the stall, “Oh fuck yeah, put your fucking tongue right there!” there was a security guard in the stall next door spying on us. His radio went off, giving away the plot and to prevent my raucous laughter, Denis began aggressively kissing me. The damage was done though, because before we could scramble out of there, the security guard’s colleague had come to join him as he braced himself against the door in an attempt to have us detained. In no mood to be messed with, I grabbed JF’s half finished Styrofoam cup of coffee and tossed it over the stall door onto the killjoy guard. Though we tried to bolt, his backup had locked us inside. Denis copped hauteur and feigning outrage, demanded to be let out at once as he had nothing to do with any of this. The cheek! Tall, imposingly debonair, just like that Denis abandoned us with René, who never said more than two words at any given time, slithering out with Denis. Merlin said of René, you have a great fuck then afterwards, there’s nothing there; simply no signs of intellect. You can bet your bottom dollar, I howled at his assessment. After too much silly cop-playing nonsense, JF and I were released and told to never set foot on the campus again… as fucking if.

Stage left alcove with Lauri close by, JF fell to his knees, doing a deadpan Bette Davis impersonation from Jezebel, “Arvin. Arvin, I’m on my knees… I’m pleading to you…” All the while he kept looking from my crotch to my face his eyes large and yearning whilst suggestively licking his lips; Lauri’s laughter in the corner almost drowned out the caterwauling coming from onstage. Next, it was my turn to be witty, removing the band that gathered my recently permed hair, my Bette Davis rebuttal came from Cabin in the Cotton as I giggled and replied, “Well, of course, I’d love to hogtie and fuck you silly but I just permed my hair… bye now.” Turning, I made towards Lauri in the alcove whose laughter was continuous and just then, JF put his hand in my hair, making it an unruly mess. With that, he took off rushing to the back and through the door onto Victoria Street with me giving spirited chase. As it was the mid-1980s the street was a darkened affair with the foreboding sight of St. Michael’s Hospital across on the east side of the street. Facing north on the west side on the street, JF squatted on the kerb and began offering his arse whilst I grabbed his hips and soon we both dissolved in laughter, working off the stress from being earlier held hostage by aggressive security up the street.

Of course, today Victoria Street is no longer a deserted affair after dark. Last year, Massey Hall at the southwest corner of Shuter and Victoria streets reopened after 190$m renovations. Of course, it is just in time for the 70th anniversary of the most phenomenal live Jazz concert recording with the famous ‘Salt Peanuts’ performance. To Massey Hall’s rear and half a block down Victoria Street is the back of the Elgin Theatre. The 60-storey Massy Tower condominiums sit on the east side of Yonge Street and two doors north of the Elgin Theatre’s marquee between Queen Street East to the south and Shuter to the north. Jean-François was devastatingly funny and vulgarly laughed at everyone and everything; he was as intimidating as he was diminutive. He favoured me as ours was a physical relationship that was purely fraternal and nothing more than robust, healthy sexual play.

A couple of years after Merlin’s passing, I was then habituated in the Beaches, one of Toronto’s more glorious neighbourhoods which, like Moore Park, is lorded over by the tallest oaks, and bordered to the south by the boardwalk, beach and Lake Ontario beyond, which proves a putrid malodorous cocktail in springtime. The Beaches’ high street is Queen Street East with its noisy 501 streetcars; I then lived just beyond the end of the Queen streetcar loop at Neville Park on the south side of Queen. To the north the Upper Beaches was the tonier part of the neighbourhood with the most commanding views of the city and lake beyond or below. I really loved living there. About that time, in 1991, I received a call with news of Jean-François. I had last seen JF a couple of months earlier as he came by and visited but we didn’t have sex; Merlin was dead of AIDS, which meant that I had unredeemably become perished fruit. Years earlier when we had just moved to Cabbagetown’s 20 Amelia Street, JF dropped by unannounced whilst we visited with chef Gary Martin who was a source of playful raucous man-loving. Having heard about me JF came calling, whilst we visited in the back garden, Merlin cock-sucking a joint, Gary sharing on it, JF lit up a cigarette and offered it as he tried charming me; grabbing his hand at the wrist, I elegantly moved the cigarette away and coolly stated fact, “Sorry, I never suck on anything less than nine and a half inches… ever.” Jean-François tossed his head back and roared and declared that he was besotted. Gary cooked yet another sublime dinner and after, Merlin continued enjoying a joint whilst onlooking at me ploughing Gary who always had to have the large mirror in the hall on the floor to look at himself being ploughed right; Jean-François leapt in and kept his faced hungrily buried between my pumping buttocks.

Luckily, in a big city, you can nicely experience a new incarnation which has positively nothing to do with your previous existence. Soon enough, lovers aplenty were de rigueur and I began exploring my true metier, the world of S&M. For Jean-François, in a bid not to become HIV-infected, he began going after barely legal youth, freshly arrived in the big city and on the make, whom he enticed with his snazzy motorcycle. So it was as JF brought home a couple of straight boys to his lovely apartment above a drugstore along Eglinton Avenue West just west of Upper Forest Hill, his couple of tricks stole his sporty motorcycle after murdering him, cutting off his cock and sticking it into the gash of his slit throat. There unsurprisingly was blood everywhere and my response on hearing the news of JF’s demise, was to have done as he would have, “Well thank god those fucking forensic guys carry a tweezer in their toolbox…” a quip at JF’s tiny, boyish cock. The laughter the friend and I roared, was a fitting tribute to JF and also the only way to have responded to such shocking news of such a violent passing… Jean-François honestly would have appreciated the humour of the situation.

So there was the BAFTA President, Prince William, Prince of Wales with his combustible wife kitted out in her ‘fist-me-now’ black opera gloves, onlooking as Cate Blanchett won best actress BAFTA for TAR, a film which frankly is much ado about fuck-all. It is about her iconic whiteness – her blondness and blue-eyed superiority which is what the Oscars are about; however, when it comes to best actress the BAFTAs afforded the royal seal of approval. Thus Michelle Yeoh sat there at Royal Festival Hall and watched Cate win best actress BAFTA and that was that. Britons do not give a damn; besides, they are royals and all that, never mind that that blasted uncouth boor will break protocol more frequently than a duck shitting, lui même Madame Plotte-Visage, the Courtesan Queen – more of that later.

1. Kerry Condon 2. Dolly De Leon 3. Carey Mulligan 4. Angela Bassett 5. Hong Chau 6. Jamie Lee Curtis

So the BAFTAs decide that this is a good enough field for best supporting actress BAFTAs 2023. Of course, Kerry Condon is not a Yank and is close to being British for being Irish and that’s that. In this pre-Oscars awards, both Angela Bassett and Jamie Lee Curtis were passed over.

1. Cate Blanchett. 2. Viola Davis 3. Michelle Yeoh 4. Danielle Deadwyler 5. Emma Thompson 6. Ana de Armas

With the Oscars, Cate Blanchett who had been favoured was defeated by Michelle Yeoh. Of course, though much was made of Angela Bassett being a sore loser to Jamie Lee Curtis for the best supporting actress Oscar, Jamie Lee won it for two reasons, she is second generation member of a Hollywood acting dynasty; more importantly, she is Jewish and in Hollywood that trumps everything else. With Michelle Yeoh’s historic win, no one dare levelled accusations that it was mere tokenism or some woke agendum.

1. Ana de Armas 2. Andrea Riseborough 3. Cate Blanchett 4. Michelle Williams 5. Michelle Yeoh

For that matter, there was no talk anywhere of Cate Blanchett having been cheated out of her rightful best actress Oscar award. Naturally, the argument is that Black actresses are just not good enough or worthy enough to be cinematically lauded. Of course, Angela Bassett, Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler, in the case of the latter two, they portrayed not just strong Black women but they were also historical figures. This for Hollywood is wholly unacceptable; American history simply cannot expand to cinematically include African Americans. What’s more, avoiding American history at all costs is preferable, this explains why a film like Everything, Everywhere All At Once fared so well at the Oscars, it had positively nothing to do with American history and did not in any way threaten what Hollywood deems the only history worthy of being cinematically celebrated by the Oscars. As the saying goes, in Hollywood – the land of make believe, Shoah business is the only American history worth celebrating… cartographers be damned. And unlike the unpredictability of Jesse Owens’ performance before Hitler in 1936, Hollywood does not real-time events. Hollywood as 1968’s best actress Oscar tie validated, is about manipulating reality to serve its need and one’s heroic place within the culture: better than, special, innately entitled.

Broadway Actor, Audra McDonald

Though Hollywood would like to keep Black actresses oppressed and give the impression that they are not capable of commanding the screen and thus not deserving of Oscars for best actress, that is all challenged by the fact that Audra McDonald, is the most decorated leading actress on Broadway in its history with 6 Tony awards. Naturally, if Audra were an actress in Hollywood, she would never have been considered for any Oscar nomination above supporting actress. Hell, even Viola Davis won best supporting actress Oscar for a role which was always a lead on Broadway and won a Tony award in that category for the play adapted to film, Fences.

Halle Berry Best Actress Oscar Acceptance Speech 74th Academy Awards, 2002

Just look at how Briton, Helen Mirren looks on at Halle Berry during her best actress Oscar acceptance speech in 2002. She was clearly displeased and thought that the award ought not to have gone to some Black upstart, who was making some ridiculous ‘race’ speech or other. There, too, was that blasted little garden gnome whom we know is a favoured inner circle member at the court of the ugly-no-blasted-motherfuck Courtesan Queen, who has time and again made no effort to hide her disinterest in the otiose Persons of Colour the world over.

Maori Dancers Performing Haka at Commonwealth Service, Westminster Abbey, 2023

Just look at the way she walked past the barefooted Maori celebrants outside Westminster Abbey at the Commonwealth Day Service, 2023. It was heart-warming to see the Duchess of Edinburgh bump her left shoulder into HM King Charles III’s right shoulder and humour him as he clearly needed to be pulled away from the displeasure, he no doubt would have been experiencing for being born in the Year of the Rat and disrespected by that blasted Couchon, who has been unrelentingly wrecking the House of Windsor for near half a century. The damage ‘Ugly Duchess’ continues doing to HLM Queen Elizabeth II’s 70-year legacy, is incalculable.

Perception Is All.

The video above is of French colonials in the then French colony of Vietnam. That was in 1900, not 1900 years ago or 19,000 years ago. In less than 6 generations tribal perceptions change little. This is how the White tribe perceives non-Whites with varying degrees of scorn and animus. What most Whites have had to do is aggressively adapt such that this primal perception of their place in the scheme of things, is deeply guarded, camouflaged and made to seem irrelevant. Of course, the power of the gun assures them that this sense of self and place in the scheme of things are little challenged.

Indeed, the House of Windsor has been possessed of this entrenched sense of self and place, in its most recent incarnation, since the reign of Queen Victoria. The two White females tossing grain and coins at the ‘natives’ in Vietnam, were contemporaries of Queen Victoria’s, whose misogynoir was emulated and upheld by Queen Mary who groomed both Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mother and HLM Queen Elizabeth II.

Queen Elizabeth II Sharing Racist Anecdote

One should not be surprised at the Queen’s 1969 documentary in which she tells a racist joke, to which Charles heartily laughed. Charles’s heir, rather than son, Peggalicious & Fisted is an avowed anti-Black racist; of course, so too is the Courtesan Queen, who has made no bones about giving no fucks about the otiose little non-White peoples.

Royal Tour 2019: St. Kitts & Nevis, St. Vincent, Grenada, St. Lucia & Barbados

The four minute mark of the above video and on their arrival in St. Vincent, Camilla carries her trusty parapluie and to make sure that she doesn’t have to shake any of the ‘natives’ hands, she carries a handbag in the free hand. This woman is a right piece of work and a true heir of the French colonials tossing grain and coins at the Vietnamese.

Just look at her! Couchon…

The infamous open ridicule of Inuit throat singers, causing Governor-General Johnston to look at her as though she were a lunatic from Mars will not soon be forgotten.

Just Look at the Old Kook; Always Looking As Though She Just Fell Off Her Broom

Her most recent I’ve-no-fucks-left-to-give moment: 2023 Commonwealth Service at Westminster Abbey. She just walked past the irrelevant persons of colour and of course compensatorilly clutched her hat as though it were Dorothy’s cabin about to take off; as if she’s not always got a broom to hand.

1. Norma Shearer 1930 2. Luise Rainer 1936 & 1937 3. Judy Holliday 1950 4. Simone Signoret 1959 5. Elizabeth Taylor 1960 & 1966 6. Barbra Streisand 1968 7. Marlee Matlin 1986 8. Helen Hunt 1997 9. Gwyneth Paltrow 10. Natalie Portman

There is much that you can glean from the line up of the best actress Oscar winners above. They are an insight into where power lies in Hollywood and one should never be mistaken about that. This power block is whom, much like the two French colonials in 1900 decide what pittance Blacks in American cinema receive. Of course, had 9/11 never occurred, there would have been no need for Halle Berry to have won best actress Oscar in 2002. This was hastily done as there was great fear that if terrorism were to become de rigueur, a guaranteed weekly affair across America, one would need to lay low and not provoke wrath from the American public at large. Of course, by the 76th Oscars two years later, there was no such threat and it has been back to the norm of Black actresses chances of winning best actress Oscar decidedly negligible.

How Like French Colonials in Vietnam, One Tosses A Best Supporting Actress to A Black Actress Now and Again

That Hollywood does not have two fucks to give what it looks like, was validated when in 1968, it was speciously alleged that there was a tie and just as with Gwyneth’s Cinderella Oscar, so too was Barbra Streisand awarded an Oscar because one can and did. Obviously, it is not a question of Black actresses not having acting chops, deserving of best actress Oscar, just as with the French colonials of 1900 Vietnam, Hollywood’s elite have long decided that Black actresses are not deserving of any such accolade; goddamn it, they are just not people enough. Goodness, that would make them more than maids, whores, junkies and dumbasses.

Hollywood as throughout human history, is just another society with its various strata and the one stratum that gets you lifetime membership at LouLou’s, Annabel’s and Maison Estelle is the one that sees you awarded best actress. In the case of best actor Oscar that’ll get you membership at Mark’s, Harry’s and Oswald’s. Alas, Black women need not dream; as Meghan has validated, Black actresses are the one group of actresses who are most undesirable whether for senior royal status or Hollywood’s ruling elite. Don’t ever fool yourself into thinking that Hollywood’s elite are a liberal bunch; they are the most vile, racist, royal sycophants on the planet – this is why Oscar winners Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas live in an apartment at St. James’s Palace. They have wanted in, have gotten in and it’ll all culminate with Prince George marrying a nice Jewish girl – actress or otherwise. It will happen; in the meantime, they – royals and Hollywood elites – have seen to it that Meghan’s Cinderella moment could be undone and how handsomely they toiled and won. It’s a perfect business arrangement, Hollywood wants the exclusivity of royal sanction and access and for the royals and their shitty, third tier BAFTA awards, Brits get Oscars in return for preferred Hollywood elites sitting in the royal box at an Aston Villa game, living at St. James’s Palace and everything else in between, including all the minor meat they favour.

Hell, what’s all that to Harry and Meghan; they’ve got each other and are growing richer in spades with every venture they explore. Meanwhile, when the Pegged & Fisted Bourbon bastard finally gets a divorce, the inarticulate Edward Gorey silent era ingenue will draw on her coalminer pedigree and go full Jerry Springer on the House of Windsor. No Sir, Catherine will not go quietly and doe-eyed like her mother-in-law, Diana, Princess of Wales did. She will fight dirty and shake up the pantomime in ways that not even Hollywood could fathom.

Whether Emmy Awards, Grammy Awards, Oscar Awards or Tony Awards (EGOTs), American awards are about celebrating American culture with the able contribution of American actors and artisans being cited. Clearly, as demonstrated by repeated instances mentioned herein this blog, there is a clear-cut case of influence peddling on the part of the Presidents of BAFTA past and present, resulting in examples cited be it Michael Douglas & Catherine Zeta-Jones Oscar winners living in an apartment at St. James’s Palace to fellow Oscar winner Tom Hanks, being afforded VIP access to Aston Villa matches. If indeed Armenian-Americans were the most powerful group in Hollywood, American Cinema, then there would doubtless be greater inclusivity and all American actresses being celebrated for their work. Indeed, all aspects of American culture would be celebrated in such a paradigm. As is obvious from Viola Davis winning a best supporting actress Oscar for a role which is a leading role, clearly there is a validated case of discrimination and double-standards at play.

Warriors of the High Country

Oil on Canvas

24 x 20

©2008 James Ayers

American cinema has to reflect American culture in all its pandimensionality and this is not the case. From the number of British and Jewish actresses who have won best actress Oscars relative to Black and Hispanic/Latina American, there is a definite case for legally challenging the discriminatory practices of the status quo. When is there going to be a film about the human drama that unfolded as a result of the terror attacks on 9/11? When are there going to be historically accurate films, telling the story of Indigenous Americans sacrifices and genocide. Heroic films from varying perspectives have yet to be made that dealt with the human costs of the American civil war. It is incumbent on the actors unions and others in the industry to challenge this discriminatory practice by way of legal action, ACLU, class action lawsuits, hearings in congress and legal action going all the way to the United States Supreme Court. The exclusion of Viola Davis or Danielle Deadwyler at the 95th Oscars is a clear example when they were passed over in favour of a British actress, Andrea Riseborough who appeared in a utterly dismissible film and performance about which no one knew a damn thing. Two Black actresses were passed over at the Oscar nominations for very strong roles where at the BAFTAs they were celebrated by being nominated.

If any practice is an insult to intellect, demonstrates influence peddling and proves a clear-cut case of discrimination based on race and or gender then there is no dearth of lawyers in America, who cannot take on an American actors union class action suit to address and correct so glaring an ugly case of racism in America, to say nothing of that decades long practice being an injustice. Hollywood elites do not fill movie theatres, nor for that matter do Britons seeing American films lead to blockbuster box office results… Americans do! Unlike the Festival International du Film Cannes and Toronto International Film Festival, the Academy Awards, despite tacking on international to the name, is not an international film festival. Furthermore, the Academy Awards are an American film awards and not obliged to be featuring and awarding prizes to Britons as the awards have become. If you want an Oscar then damn well choose to reincarnate an American. Period. Just as if you want to be elected American President, the onus is on you to choose to reincarnate an American born citizen. The House of Windsor has no right to be wielding influence on the Oscars or any other aspect of American society; a damn war was fought and won about being bullied and over-lorded by Britons and their royals. If this is not challenged in due course, the problem of Black actresses being passed over in favour will endure for the foreseeable decades of this century and well into the next. Of course, if Blacks protest this, Hollywood’s elites in collusion with the British royals will simply see to it that all many of non-Black non-Whites will suddenly be favoured and awarded Oscars.

Brits Are Not Played Off At An American Awards, Or Are the Academy Awards Exclusively An American Awards?

Darling, the rules are very clear; if you don’t like Black people, fuck you!

Samara Joy live in NYC [full concert] | Trinity Church Wall Street | Nov 8, 2022

Samara Joy – Vocals

Ben Paterson – Piano

Felix Moseholm – Bass

Evan Sherman – Drums

At long last, a griot of the highest order has incarnated among us; long live Black high art, Jazz!

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

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

#WaroftheWaleses

The latest red carpet parade of the now Prince & Princess of Wales 3.0, (William & Catherine), Charles & Diana – The second Elizabethan Age’s original Prince and Princess of Wales, Charles & Camilla 2.0 – did not disappoint in its hissing drama. Naturally, the Fleet Street abattoirs did not surprise the sceptical in their quaint sophistry, to paint this gaudy Picasso portrait as though it were a sublime Gainsborough tableau.

As you are well aware, this hissing red carpet tango has been going on for years. Catherine can be seen brushing off William at the top of the stairs at the Royal Albert Hall as they stood with the senior royals for obligatory photo call at the premier of the James Bond film No Time To Die. Also, Catherine on joining the senior royals on the steps, could be seen cutting her eyes at William, with whom she had been earlier rowing on the red carpet. All throughout her seething animus, William kept pursing his lips as he enjoyed getting under Catherine’s skin as he is cockily assured in his relationship with Rose, Countess Rocksavage. William’s pursed lips betray the fact that though it is his wont to be loud and verbally abusive, he could not do so in public. This, of course, gives Catherine an advantage as she can grin, hiss and cuss him out at such times without him verbally assaulting her.

Again, in Boston, Catherine Makes to Hold Hands and Is Rebuffed by William.

Fast forward, post HLM Queen Elizabeth’s death and the now Prince and Princess of Wales, still at war, are in Boston. God only knows why? So lovely it was to see President Biden, meeting him on the Boston waterfront like one does a whore, then the President returned to Washington D. C. where he had been hosting French President Emmanuel Macron. Desperate to squash the truth, William again in the #WaroftheWaleses brushes off Catherine’s attempt at handholding. Now married near a dozen years, this handholding business they never engaged in. William in 2013 had an affair with a banker in the City and thereafter, they did not start handholding. Of course, with Harry and Meghan’s supernova on the royal scene, their handholding and genuine love for each other proved disruptive. Similarly, like a supernova 400 light years away, before you knew what next, the Black American woman was erased from the royal portraits as the #WaroftheWaleses turned outward and were united in cannibalising that “Yank,” that damn Black ‘bully’ American from their midst.

BAFTA Awards 2023 Red Carpet, Catherine Aggressively Replies, “Or What?”

Now fast forward to the recent BAFTA Awards, which rather extensively will be the subject of the next blog. Here’s when the hissing peaked in their usual style of continuing the #WaroftheWaleses. Catherine makes to hold hands and is again rebuffed by William. This, of course, came days after he had spent St. Valentine’s Day with Rose, Countess Rocksavage.

Just listen to that woman with female genitalia in the middle of her face, Camilla Tominey, engaging in more specious revisionism. Though there are none so blind as those who deliberately choose not to see, some of us are neither blind nor given to obsequiousness. Camilla Tominey is a known liar. Catherine tries to hold hands with William, he rebuffs as in Boston, she then immediately hits his bottom after he pulls away and conveniently waves to the little people. Betraying her energy body of 9, her being a warrior soul and one of her personal needs being power, Catherine immediately shot back, “Or What?” whilst grinning her fake-assed face off.

So then, let’s break down what is really going on here! Firstly, William and Catherine would never have gotten dressed together; therefore, on coming down when their car arrived, William would have been livid. Catherine deliberately wore black opera gloves to make a point. All Toffs know that one always wears matching opera gloves. Therefore, Catherine ought to have been wearing a black or smoky grey dress with black opera gloves. Had Catherine elected to wear white gloves with the white Alexander McQueen dress that she wore, she could not have made her point.

That’s right, Catherine was outing Peggalicious! As there is never just one hanger in any closet, Catherine in the #WaroftheWaleses upped her game. If William will not spend St. Valentine’s Day with her, she was going to take the war to the red carpet. Again, do not ever underestimate the resolve of a warrior soul when they choose to do battle; for all warriors, fighting is foreplay. Prince Henry, is also a fifth level mature soul Warrior like Catherine, and SPARE certainly does lay bare his warrior mettle through and through. Catherine and William’s rowing would be like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt in their rivetingly combustible film, Mr. & Mrs. Smith.

As previously shared on this blog, (Pink Chair I & II) in October, 2021, https://dreampoetica.com/2021/10/24/pink-chair-i-ii/ I have been into S&M and all its play. And it was my experience that all males who are into being pegged, also go in for being fisted. That’s right, Catherine was aggressively outing William’s game. Not only is he Peggalicious but he also loves getting good and fisted. For obvious reasons, one never wears long white latex or rubber gloves in fisting. Catherine has to know that she has to go all out, because the day the Prime Minister stands in Parliament and states, “It is with regret that Buckingham Palace announces that TRH Prince and Princess of Wales are to separate, it will be open season on her. Faster than lightning striking the CN Tower, the Fleet Street abattoirs will then turn on Catherine.

In the #WaroftheRoses, Catherine broke with tradition and wore a white dress to highlight the black opera gloves, which were a nod to long, black latex or rubber fisting gloves. Catherine is shrewd and one of the interesting observations that Meghan, Duchess of Sussex made in her Oprah interview, is that Catherine is a good person. By so doing, like equally shrewd Catherine, Meghan who never once mentioned his name, was alluding to what a anti-Black racist boor, William is, which his number 9 second position (mindset) attests and which has been validated in Prince Harry’s phenomenally successful SPARE, which I’ve now thrice read.

If you are going to wear a white dress to an important function, where the Prince of Wales is president of BAFTA, you do not wear black gloves with a white dress. It is always monochromatic from head to toe. Catherine did not give a damn about being royal next to mere Hollywood and the Oscars coming up this month; if she cared, she would have worn her hair up as she did at the premier of the James Bond film, No Time To Die, in September 2021 at the Royal Albert Hall. Of course, along with the opera gloves, weaving some pearls into her beautifully coiffed hair would have carried off the look and made it truly royal. As it is, Catherine came off as nothing more than coalmining fare, playing at being a royal.

12 Years A Fail

Frankly, 12 years on, it is time she changed her armour, starting with her hair; she would be better served with a close-cropped hairdo. A dozen years on, it is too much hair and too much of the damn boring same. In the #WaroftheWaleses, Catherine is literally fighting for her man, for her life and everything that entails. Unlike both Diana, Princess of Wales and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, Catherine is void charisma and is embarrassingly inarticulate – unlike Meghan, she will fare miserably if William were to serve her with divorce; if that were the case, I rather suspect that she will walk away with the little bastard, Damien. Honest to god, is it any wonder William is off watering Rose’s garden. Some femme au foyer that, talk about 12 years a fail. How in the hell can this woman not cook? And, of course, the Fleet Street abattoirs just laughed it off but they are keeping score and will change colour and pounce on her faster than an octopus its prey!

At the end of the day, Catherine is a woman in deep pain and with all that rowing in public, there has got to be a lot of emotional and mental abuse from both sides behind closed doors. Regardless of anything else, I will always support a woman in an abusive relationship, especially in this dynamic. No matter what, like his father before him, William will not adversely suffer, if he were to dispose of Catherine by way of divorce or god forbid worse; that is the nature of the game. Her escalated ageing can be put down to the fact that Catherine is clearly a serious drinker and also is mightily stressed about the fact that like Diana, Princess of Wales, there are three persons in her marriage. Certainly, the Courtesan Queen will be of no solace to Catherine.

Falling Apart; Clearly Fairy Tales Are Not Real

Just look at Catherine, she stumbles and what proves a fitting metaphor of their relationship, William does not react. He is long over this woman, he just wants her gone from his life. It truly is a sad state of affairs. In the meantime, we await the coronation, which every entertainer and their shadow is shunning thanks to SPARE and their loyalties to the Sussexes. Let’s see if the Courtesan Queen’s grandkids are kited with coronets and tiaras on the day whilst the Sussexes’ son, Archie, on his fourth birthday remains not styled as a prince.

Something has definitely shifted in the #WaroftheWaleses. Since Catherine’s rude brushoff in 2019, William clearly enjoys the upper hand and can care less about her. He knows that the kingdom is aware of heir marital strife; he is also keenly aware that she will never win that PR war when it arrives. Especially so if he ends up with Rose, Countess Rocksavage, Catherine will be discarded to the Fleet Street abattoirs, much as Diana was, where they will truly flay her soul. At least Diana was charming, radiant, beautiful and beloved by most everyone.

Certainly, it will be a smooth transition moving into the role of Duchess of Cornwall. Plus que ça change, plus c’est… mais oui. Honest to god, I swear there is a strap-on imprint on Rose’s gown. Look at how much happier Peggalicious looks – that just-pegged glow is undeniable. Indeed, look at how much more regally Rose oozes the royal mystique. All things aside, the no-chinned ‘model’ scores only a few points less on the all-important toddler scare-ometer than the Courtesan Queen. Clearly not breeding material, House of Windsor sidepieces are therefore not chosen for their beauty.

The latest salvo of the House of Windsor is truly myopic. As Fleet Street gleefully reports, the #TampaxKing in a fit of rage, instigated by the #CourtesanQueen has evicted the Sussexes from Frogmore Cottage. Hooray for that! At 120 rooms, the Earl & Countess of Wessex’s Bagshot Park costs then £90,000 per annum. Similarly, the kinder-lover Yorkist paedophile pays on his 30 room pile, Royal Lodge a whopping £12,000 per annum. Now get this, after having paid back the costs of renovations, and installed a £5,000 copper bathtub, the Sussexes were having to pay £216,000 per annum for the 12 room Frogmore Cottage. What more proof does one need of the House of Windsor being a racist hellhole when the otiose Black wife, the ‘Yank’ has to cough up 2.4 times as much as the Wessexes to the Crown Estate and 18 times as much as the harboured Yorkist paedophile. Let’s hope that the Sussexes rip out that damn copper bathtub and have it shipped to Montecito. Thanks for desperately seeking to score brownie points with the island kingdom’s shitty racist boors but you’ve just saved the Sussexes loads of cheddar. In all of this, you can bet your bottom shilling that the warring Waleses, in particular the pegged & fisted Bourbon bastard, was behind the drive to have the Sussexes evicted. Oh thank you dumb and blinded by racially predatory obsession your gormliness. Good, now that you’ve gotten the Sussexes evicted just Keep Calm et Va Chier!

Puerto Rican Iris Chacon Performing in Venezuela

Get it Iris! So despite the #WaroftheWaleses, life keeps on boogieing right along with Prince Harry’s SPARE performing brilliantly. At this rate, I think for being banished to Ray Mill House, the Courtesan Queen will demand titles for her Parker-Bowles offspring, whilst still nothing for Archie and Lilibet. Seriously, who the fuck are these people? There is a point at which, you cannot expect intelligent people to buy this nonsense about unconscious bias. The royals are part of a racist institution; they know it and they themselves are as well and don’t give a damn that it is fairly obvious to all with eyes to see. Well, they damn sure got rid of the Black woman in their midst; however, does this mean that their volatile marriage will adapt and the #WaroftheWaleses just become another convenient institutional partnership, like Philip and Elizabeth with each taking lovers and having children with other lovers as was the case with recently departed Philip and Elizabeth? Who knows, who truly fucking cares?

Well, if you can’t flip pancakes and can do little more than gurn like a lost, famished fox, from September 2021 to February 2023, you had better be able to shake it like Iris Chacon. No matter how you cut it, sooner or later, task companions or not, there is a very strong likelihood that this marriage which is clearly in its late stages of viability, will likely end in separation, followed by divorce.

Wayne Shorter Quartet, 2012 Paris Salle Pleyel

Wayne Shorter – Saxophones

John Patitucci – Bass

Danilo Perez – Piano

Brian Blade – Drums

Wayne Shorter, 25.8.1933 [Rooster 7.6.4 = 8] <O> 2.3.2023 Sweet and blissful dreams ennobled Shaman. Your memory ever will be a blessing of the most inspired dreams.

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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!

_______________________________________________________________________________

©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

You’re Not A Spare; You’re Harry, King of Hearts. SPARE Book Review

Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex, King of Hearts!

Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex on Late Show with Stephen Colbert Promoting SPARE

Whenever I travel to a city, I always stay within close distance to a crystal store. I want to be exposed to their vibration and thereby harmonise with that city’s groove. In November 2018 when in town for the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day and Royal Ballet’s production of La Bayadère, I stayed at a hotel in Russell Square so that I could be in walking distance to the British Museum, Covent Garden. I got to the Astrology Shop in Covent Garden and took my time, trying to find a couple of crystals that I could keep in my pockets at all times. Besides, the best most fragrant sagebrush can be found at the Astrology Shop. The day of the Remembrance Ceremony, I stood just to the right of the Cenotaph and opposite the balcony where eventually Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex stood with the German President’s wife. I wanted to be there because I knew that HLM Queen Elizabeth II, looking at the state of those canker sores on her shins, was not much longer for this world.

Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex Remembrance Ceremony, 2018

Standing there, at times I had to reach into each pant pocket and clutch the crystal therein after the vile hateful remarks of positively everyone about me made of Harry’s wife, Meghan, before she and the rest of the royal party came to those three balconies. There were times when for sending focussed light energy directly to Meghan to protect from the island kingdom’s racially predatory, hateful focus, the crystals actually became warm in each palm. I was exhausted at the end of the ceremony, eventually making my way to the Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace and taking in a beautiful exhibition that celebrated Queen Victoria’s empire building family, not before the most hilarious cab ride.

The beauty of Prince Harry’s book is that it so undisputedly validates what I have expounded all along about the major royal principals, based chiefly on their numerology. Yes, of course, I have also relied on their Michael Overleaves; however, what I have never done is focussed on their astrology, which is often not remotely accurate. The truly leonine person, for example, is not someone born with the Sun in leo but someone with the Moon in Leo, though, that is obviously possible. Though a Leo, my Sagittarian Moon is a more accurate insight to my emotional makeup than anything else. That aside, the numerology, which never lies, is the real measure of any person’s true character.

Princess Eugenie & Jack Brooksbank at Pippa Middleton’s May 2017 wedding

When initially the Telegraph’s royal reporter, Camilla Tominey speciously reported that Meghan had made Catherine cry, I knew after a quick review of the principals’ numerology that it was a lie. Clearly, the church guests rule was specifically intended to ban Meghan from attending the church portion of the Middleton-Matthews wedding. If Meghan were seen attending the church service then both Catherine and Pippa would readily have been eclipsed. This was an early example of specious and wholly arbitrary rules employed to keep the Yank, the Black Yank, out of the picture.

As Prince Harry, King of Hearts, has poignantly documented in SPARE, the truth, his and Meghan’s had to be revealed to show the extent to which the Waleses’ monstrosity was being protected by the Fleet Street abattoirs. How could these Britons realistically think that they could dismiss a ‘Yank’ in their midst and it not get out. It is not the age of steamships and telegrams. Everything is out there. What the senior royals and their Fleet Street abattoir hacks did not envision, was Henry & Meghan walking.

Obviously, the book is hands down a winner! Here are my takeaways. As to why Harry was so self-revelatory; this has always been one big high stakes PR game. In revealing chatter about his todger and drug use, he readily squashed any potential of the tabloids coming out and releasing this to eclipse his book and, as it were, shame Prince Harry. The most hysterical thing for me was when I was called by a friend and asked if that was a lucid dream that Harry was having when staying at Courtney Cox’s place. That provided a good laugh as I assured him that he was talking about the effects of doing drugs at the party but since nothing less than 9.5 inches ever goes in my mouth and I’ve never done drugs, it had to have been about a drug trip but what drugs I hadn’t a clue. Certainly, dreams don’t go there as in that experience that Harry described.

Young Virgin Auto-Sodomized by the Horns of Her Own Chastity Oil on Canvas 1954 Salvador Ali

Sometimes, what passes for reality is truly as though a bad drug experience. Though I lived at 380 Assiniboine Avenue’s Bessborough apartments in Winnipeg, I spent evenings from time to time at Arjun’s tiny apartment on Broadway Avenue. One afternoon, in the midst of winter as I walked home in shoes and socks that were soaked with loud-smelling piss, he had pulled up, and offered me a ride; it’s too cold to be on foot, he negotiated with the warmest smile that matched his large, light brown eyes. He truly was a godsend. I got in hardly able to walk and he thought that I had injured myself; my shoes and socks were frozen to my feet. Someone, though, I had a pretty good suspicion who it was, pissed into my locker with the grated wire door and into my socks and shoes. This only ever occurred when there were snow squalls and the temperatures well below -30°C with the wind chill. He drove a cab for extra cash as he struggled post divorce. Arjun was horrified when he saw my swollen, frozen feet with socks and shoes hard to remove. He made a mean curry chicken and after he would give me a beautiful massage after having tied me off and performed the most maddeningly slow, warm-oiled manual massage to climax whilst we sat opposite each other, naked on dining room chairs. Most of all, Arjun taught me numerology; he felt it was necessary as he discovered that I had master number 11. I always recalled him saying that my little accidents at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet school whenever it heavily snowed was like a bad dream. Faithfully, as promised, he was always there waiting for me outside when it snowed and was bitterly cold as I emerged in piss-soaked socks and shoes. The moment that I saw Princess Michael of Kent in that blackamoor brooch, I became a staunch supporter of Meghan’s. I knew what harrowing put-through it was to be a lone Black, entering into what is a traditionally all-White institution, an institution which after having amassed fantastic wealth from the enslavement of Black Africans could not be expected to be anything but racially hostile to Blacks, which has been most focussed in William and his wife, Catherine.

Standing there at the Cenotaph in November, 2018, and seeing HM The Queen for the last time, I was keenly reminded of how important it was to support Meghan. First hand, from all the people around me, who said the most vile hateful things, all I could do was visualise. Holding on to those crystals, I sent her light energy from the crystals, to enlighten and protect her from the hateful maelstrom being directed her way. As the ceremony endured, I thought of that energy being used to replenish the bile being projected onto her which I then drew away and had the plane trees on either side of me absorb, send to their roots to have it eaten, cleansed and returned from the warm earth, travelling to me via the plane trees’ crowns and the cycle perpetuated. There was no way that Meghan would not have been the focussed campaign of rejection and racial animus from William and Catherine for both being possessed of 9 in their numerology.

Too, it was good to have gotten a thorough appreciation of warrior soul, Prince Harry’s time in the combat zone. He was as soldier who had performed in the war theatre and had survived. Harry needed to have devoted the second of three parts of his inspiring memoir to his military service as a way to present himself to his newly adopted homeland, America.

Above all else, Americans respect veterans. This is such a poignant photograph of soldier Harry. He has been on a mission to avenge his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’ murder and nothing and no one will deter him on his quest. All the successes of the Sussexes are directly a result of Diana, Princess of Wales being there in their corner.

This book is not just about the structural racism of the House of Windsor and British society as a result of its past as colonisers and enslaving imperialists, it unveils a rather telling aspect of post colonialism. In all my seven decades, I know of no one Black: rich, middle class, creative or otherwise who has ever once spoken of a desire to go on an African safari, have been or know of such things. Prince Harry accounts of his retreats to Botswana’s Okavango delta speak volumes. Here is a realm of human experience, which just a few thousand miles away, tens of millions of Blacks are held captive in poverty, the vestiges of post-Apartheid colonial South Africa, which still stridently exists – political window dressing notwithstanding, and about this they know positively nothing. Seeing this aspect of human civilisation through Prince Harry’s eyes, was deeply inspiring but profoundly devastating. The very essence of Africa, one giant getaway for predominantly Whites to enjoy unencumbered by the misery of Black Africans, Blacks elsewhere about which they have no input, was plainly revealed in Prince Harry’s journeys. The most devastating part which made me break down and cry was listening to Prince William, he of the prejudiced 9 mindset, insisting that Africa was his not Harry’s; A whole fucking continent, the homeland of a diverse, culturally rich people the world over of Black African descent, being spoken of as though Africa were the exclusive property of a blasted White male who could not be anymore out of touch with the 21st century than if he were teleported back in time to Han Dynasty China. Of course, what William was referring to, was the rich animal kingdoms in Africa which exists nowhere else; he couldn’t in the least have given a shit about the dredged scourge that is Black Africans’ lives and their culture.

Of course, in that moment, I was reminded of the vast disconnected that exists between Blacks, the diabolical lengths we go to, to deny our Blackness and our connectedness to other Blacks. Knowing that he was going to die, Merlin wrote letters to many of his professional associates, most in the States. As they shared the same eponymous agency, Joyce Ketay, which later became part of the Gersch Agency, Merlin wrote to actor, Joe Morton whom he had directed in plays and who starred in in the film, Brother From Another Planet. They always got on famously. On receiving the mail in November, 1989, Joe called up from L. A. and said that he would be coming up to see Merlin. It was the most noble gesture. Joe flew into town and my sister and I met him at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport and the evening was both healing and bucolic. I ordered Chinese takeout and went around to Parliament Street to collect the food with Joe and filled him in on how long Merlin had been ill; we got in and my lover who had not been able to hold down a meal in several days, joined in and picked at the food and did not even throw up. As this was the age, long before cell phones’ ubiquity, Joe used our phone to call his wife in L. A. and check in. Some time later, we were having refreshments, they coffee – I can’t abide the stuff and I tea. At some point, Merlin had misjudged his strength and the distance to the coffee table piled high with books, one of which was Luigi Serafini’s magical masterpiece, Codex Seraphinianus. From my perspective across the room all the spilled coffee had not been sopped up and not wanting it to damage the books, I got up and used my napkin to clean up the rest of the spilled fare. Almost violently, Joe snatched his Sprint phone card, from atop one of the large coffee table books, creating an awkward millisecond of social aggression. This is the sort of thing that if Merlin were not ill and he were not staying in our house, I’d have walked Joe to the door and violently slam it on him. After he got up in the early hours, my sister came by and drove him out to the airport where a very large moon was close to the horizon. When I got back to the house, Merlin apologised and said that it was most devastating because he realised that if he were Black rather than Jewish, Joe would not have bothered to fly into town and visit him. It was one of the many times that Merlin, an ardent student of Black literature, who relished just about every Black author there was, touched on the subject of Black on Black racism. I always remember him saying, there is no such thing as being half Jewish, mixed Jewish. You are a Jew! Period! Yet the vogue has been for so many Blacks, exhibiting the most embarrassing self-loathing, claiming not to be Black. As Merlin once joked, well if you have a Black parent how can you not be Black, do these people think anyone mistakes them for Chinese? Said Merlin, what is a Jew with a single Jewish parent referred to as, a Goyish, a mixed Goy. Trust Merlin to always see the humour in everything; however, this need to deny one’s Blackness, is precisely why Joe never procreated with a Black woman. How the hell do you go to someone’s house and consider them a damn thief in their own house? I’d be rather surprised if with his success, Joe has ever been on a safari to Botswana. Merlin passed exactly a week later.

Two men could not have been more different. Indeed, it is a good thing that William is the shit-disturbing, stubborn, pugnacious, bully that he is. He truly represents the collective psyche of White Britain, having to face up to its past as colonisers, enslavers and just blood-thirsty savages. That history has given rise to royal heirs who are archly anti-Black in their perspective and conversely pro-Jewish in their preferences. There is nothing wrong in their preference but you cannot be so daft as to put out there your embarrassing perceptions. Furthermore, it does one’s credibility little to no good when a disproportionate number of the pundits who are savagely attacking Meghan and Harry are Jewish. Recently, even Judge Judy has gotten on the bandwagon of preying on the Sussexes. One of the things that all these persons are keen to do, which Merlin first pointed out to me in the early days of our relations in 1980s New York City, is that when being racially predatory towards Blacks, Jews are ever mindful never to bring race into their discussions and open animus towards Blacks. As he then pointed out, once challenged, one can then scream to the rafters that one is being anti-Semitic. One of the errors of all such persons as they savagely prey on Meghan and being openly racist, is not one of them so much as said boo fuck-all when George Floyd was savagely murdered. It was no business of theirs; of course, in having said nothing by way of protesting, one was clearly supporting such hideous racially predatory savagery. Then along comes Meghan et voilà, Methenny and others are barking mad with rage against that Black bitch Meghan whom they hate; of course, as Merlin long ago pointed out and has been validated, they never once mention Meghan’s Blackness.

Carefully chosen words from a man who could not be more disinterested in Black civilisation than if he were a Klansman. Indeed, there were times on that tour where they were supposed to be representing HLM Queen Elizabeth II where their relationships disrepair could not have been more obvious. Of course, Catherine just had to be photographed standing around with a drink in hand… drunk and debauched indeed.

Of course, we finally got validation of Catherine’s energy body of 9 being revealed as the bully behind who made whom cry. Not only was she a rude, dismissive, confrontational 9 energy-bodied boor, Catherine had to go one step forward and lay down the law as to who was boss, she wore a white dress to Meghan’s wedding – so, too, did Camilla to Diana’s wedding in July, 1981. The bitch wore white, that’s how you know who made who cry. All the incidents reported by Prince Harry in SPARE are evidence of both Meghan and Harry being racially harassed and racially preyed on in the workplace. One of the signatures of 11 master number is that it gives one a keen intellect; one is ill-inclined to gladly suffer fools. Who is Catherine to a self-made accomplished actor? Catherine is a blithering idiot who can do not more than gurn like a mad loon because finally, you cannot expect a fucking mad loon to behave like a self-possessed, strong woman.

It may be a family; however, it is also a workplace and it is fairly obvious that Meghan was the target of a campaign that involved mental and emotional abuse, which was orchestrated by the Waleses and in concert with Courtesan Queen Camilla as it suited her to be an ugly duchess who just could not resist going there as she so relished with Harry’s mother and Meghan’s mother-in-law, Diana, Princess of Wales.

Prince William Goes Off Displaying Short Fused Nature

What I am thoroughly convinced of, by Meghan’s body language when they emerged at the Cambridge Gates at Windsor Castle in September 2022, is that she exhibited signs that not only was she regularly yelled at and abused but either or both, Catherine or William; however, either or both may well have physically assaulted Meghan whilst she lived at Nott Cott. How could they live at Nott Cott when in the palace proper was that vile racist bully, Princess Michael of Kent.

“If You Don’t Mind, Take Your Finger Out of My Face.” Meghan, Duchess of Sussex to HRH Prince William, Prince of Wales.

What Meghan was making perfectly clear, William is milquetoast and furthermore, she did not want his smelly, bussy-poking finger anywhere near her goddamn face. There is no mistaking who had the upper hand in that power dynamic, William and Catherine’s vile machinations notwithstanding.

As much as we know that Prince William loves getting pegged, part of that psychosexual dynamic of being bottomed, is almost always being violently impatient, rude and bullying. This is a scene with which Prince William would be intimately familiar. For one thing, his fourth number of 5 guarantees being debauched and it always means sexual infamy – scandal or multiple scandals that are sexual beyond the norm will manifest and more importantly, make their way into the culture, becoming common knowledge. It is not about Prince William being Gay or Bisexual, it is simply a psychosexual dynamic which at its core is sadomasochistic. William’s desire to be pegged, bottomed and owned, comes as a relief from the domineering, bullying almost brutalising aspects of his personality when he is not sexually focussed. Again, William is moving centred so more than most, he ever would need a sexual outlet. Fourth number of 5, rules excess, infamy.

Prince Harry Bird Watching with Archie & Meghan

There is magic all around, you just have to be accurately focussed to capture those moments, which are ever present. These moments of magic, like the incident related in SPARE of the crash of the Queen Elizabeth Christmas tree ornament, are moments which reinforce that Diana, Princess of Wales is not far off. Indeed, loved ones with whom one remains bonded, will never lose being focussed on us here and now. As there are another 400 pages of this memoir, SPARE, yet to be released, I fully expect more of the Waleses, Charles and Camilla’s ugliness to be further revealed. Beautifully written, this is a most raw, honest and scathingly focussed memoir. Godspeed Henry, Meghan, Archie & Lilibet your work is ably fortified by Diana’s guidance and protection. God save a most noble Prince Harry, King of Hearts.

A Love Supreme. John Coltrane. 1965. Full Album

John Coltrane – Soprano & Tenor Saxophone

Jimmy Garrison – Double Bass

McCoy Tyner – Piano

Elvin Jones – Drums

This handsome gem played nonstop as I pored through SPARE, getting to know Henry’s raw, inspiring, beautiful soul. John Coltrane’s creative genius certainly got me through some rough patches in the book, especially, his early trauma at the violent murder of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales. I cannot state enough, but whenever I have dreamt of Henry he has always been relaxed, unpretentious and barefooted, which really made me sit up and take notice during the Netflix & Archewell Productions, co-production of Harry and Meghan, the docuseries. Above all else, special mention must be made of J. R. Moehringer, SPARE’s masterful ghost-writer; he did one hell of a job.

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

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

And Then You Have The Frig-All Temerity…

Berry, Halle 14/8/1966

Michael: No, this is not the fragment who was previously Dorothy Dandridge.  This fragment is a second-level mature artisan – second life thereat.  Halle is in the observation mode with a goal of growth.  An idealist, she is in the moving part of emotional centre. 

Body type is Solar/Venus. 

Halle’s primary chief feature is skewed impatience and the secondary is stubbornness. 

The fragment Halle is fifth-cast in second cadence; she is a member of greater cadence three.  Halle’s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – an entity mate of both Merlin’s and Arvin’s. 

Halle’s essence twin is an artisan and her task companion is a slave. 

Halle’s primary needs are: exchange, adventure and freedom. 

There are 16 past-life associations with Arvin and 12 with Merlin.  ________________________________________________

As I am a sceptic, I looked on at Halle’s historic best actress win speech and though I trembled and cried, I was also detached and shrewdly aware why she had won. Indeed, she was the vessel, at long last, because months earlier the twin towers were felled and who knew what strange new nightmare we had entered. Just to be safe, what do you know, none-too-liberal, the archly discriminating gatekeepers in Hollywood decided that it fiinally was time to “let’s make like nice, whatta say, let’s give her the award.” Oh Please!

In a truly great American cinema, Dorothy Dandridge was just as deserving to have won best actress Oscar for “Carmen Jones” as was Elizabeth Taylor damn well deserving to have won best actress Oscar for her riveting performance in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Naturally, to cancel the threat of the very brilliantly talented Diana Ross, singer/actor, winning the best actress Oscar in 1973 for “Lady Sings the Blues,” she was pitted against my father’s paternal first cousin, the actor Cicely Tyson in “Sounder.” A Briton, Maggie Smith was a spoiler vote, so that the sizeable British voting members of the Academy, could cast her a vote rather than vote for either Black nominee. Then there was another foreigner, Liv Ullmann, when the Academy awards are an American awards rather than film festival – the difference is plainly obvious. All this left one other candidate for best actress Oscar, Liza Minnelli, who was just as vapid and untalented as she has remained. And thus, neither Cicely Tyson nor Diana Ross won a best actress Oscar that night in 1973 and, of course, neither would go on to do so.

Just look at the 02:13 mark of the featured video of Halle Berry’s best actress Oscar acceptance speech for her turn in “Monster’s Ball” in 2002, there was sat Helen Mirren, onlooking as though she were looking at this imposter freak, someone being allowed to take a damn award that rightfully ought to have gone to, Judy Dench. There sat Helen Mirren who did not stand up as Halle, an American actor, winning an American award, said, “tonight this door has been opened.” Helen sat there livid at Halle high-jacking the awards with all this affirmative action claptrap. Never mind the Briton small-minded bigot, at least Sidney Poitier (old soul sage) was present to witness the historic moment. Well, you can bet Prada-heeled Britons in Hollywood, went all out to quickly slam shut that door because why should ‘they’ have received such a prestigious award? They are not even RADA graduates. Americans fought a war to rid themselves of the tyranny of these people and their colonising conceit and arrogance. Let’s face it, a BAFTA award hasn’t the cachet of an Oscar; it should be of negligible worth if an American actor is either nominated or wins a BAFTA award. It is not an Oscar.

Why in the hell is American cinema being steamrolled and bullied into submission by these holier-than-thou poseurs? No Briton with the exception of Elizabeth Taylor, who was riveting and compelling in every role she ever played, been deserving of being awarded an Oscar. What right have Kate Winslet, Olivia Colman, Helen Mirren, Emma Thompson, to name far to many, to be in the same league as Katherine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Barbara Stanwyck, Grace Kelly, Mia Farrow, Meryl Streep to mention a mere few?

Ever since the fairy dust of Chuck & Di’s 1981 pantomime, arriviste Hollywood have been bowing and scraping as though these were pre-1776 times. Since that best actress Oscar acceptance speech by Halle Berry in 2002, there has been a plethora of decidedly non-American actors, walking off with an Oscar in a parade of spiteful arrogance. Why Kate Winslet has won a best actress Oscar is beyond me, her every performance is just plain, insipid… uninspired. Winslet and her foreign colleagues are void magnetism and merely use the snobbish hauteur of their British accent as their cachet for being perfectly entitled to an Oscar. Who are these people to be in the same league as Faye Donaway, Jane Fonda and Meryl Streep.

Let me tell you something, that award right there is the most bold-face looting in recent memory. Just like Angela Bassett was robbed of the 1994 best actress Oscar for “What’s Love Got To Do With It” so, too, was Viola Davis robbed of the 2017 best actress Oscar. Viola won best supporting actress Oscar for a role in August Wilson’s “Fences,” which won best actress Tony on Broadway; it is not a supporting role. They even tried to see if they could snatch it from Viola’s rightful clutch, as they did with Cicely and Diana in 1973, in 2017, by also putting Naomie Harris and Octavia Spencer in the mix. Not only was it insult enough to have been misplaced in the nominations category but there was a strong likelihood that Viola could have lost out, just so that she could be put in her place for being so damn good. Bar none, she is the best actress under 60 in English-speaking cinema. Period.

Seriously, though, what can one expect of Hollywood when they had the temerity to tear their arses in the world’s face by having you and me believe that the statistically impossible truly had occurred, affording a tie in 1968 to Katherine Hepburn and Barbra Streisand for best actress Oscar. An Oscar has been of negligible worth since. And as such, it has become a members only club, to keep Black actors at bay; indeed, they go looking elsewhere for actors to whom they award Oscars, chiefly to Britons. To hell with Mr. Darcy. American cinema, to say nothing of actors, are being robbed. Where are the films, telling the story of Cuban-Americans in Miami, Lakota families and their rich history in the north. There are a thousand stories to be had in each of the 50 states of Black, Latino, Jewish, Irish, Mexican, Cuban… all Americans and it is not being told. Yet, you have these arrogant Britons, dragging on a fag and copping hauteur, though no doubt more jizzed than a Grand Central Station urinal during evening rush-hour, grabbing an Oscar time and again and toffing up their accent to bedazzle the none-the-wiser, silly little Yanks.

The one thing that the past five years has taught us, is that Britons are alarmingly racist and not only are they more racist than Americans but unlike Americans, they refuse to admit to being racists. Whether you are black or white, you are American and Americans are second to no one. Period. Why is the acting heritage of American greats like Hepburn, Davis, Stanwyck et al being eclipsed by non-Americans, chiefly Britons, marching in grabbing an Oscar; obviously if an Oscar had comparably less cachet than a BAFTA, no British actor would time-waste, courting an Oscar. Indeed, the age of neo-colonialism is upon us. Helen Mirren is leaden and starchy and does Helen Mirren, time and again. Same with Maggie Smith, Judy Dench (the dame means nothing to Americans) Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Olivia Colman the whole lot of them, it is all third-tier smoke and mirrors by way of copping Toff hauteur and using voice (à la Dune) by way of that accent on the oh-so-unsophisticated Yanks. Hell, in 2016 Helen Mirren even argued that there was nothing possibly wrong with only one Black American female having won a best actress Oscar to that point, in the 78-year history of the Oscars.

There are two types of looting with which we are all familiar. One, Black people looting at the drop of the hat; it is expected and an excuse to be reviled by the rest of society. Secondly, though not readily admitted, planetary looting of which we as a species are wholly guilty, which will cause our civilisation’s ruin in due course.

Ah yes, then here we have the most invidious looting. Britons looting an American award because clearly the BAFTA award hasn’t the same cachet. The Academy awards are an American award; they are not part of a film festival, which by its very nature is open to all nationalities, they are a uniquely American award. Then, there is the most egregiously invidious looting: Whites looting Black culture because… well, one can. To fuck with you, Jazz is too good for you; to hell with you, you could not possibly have invented this… This is American music; if indeed it were American music, god only knows you would never have deigned to have afforded us access – like your Oscars – to the art form, which boasts an unrivalled pantheon of musical geniuses. But hey, stay over there in your parallel universe, making your trifling music, as if anyone Black, on returning home after racism’s bile being spat their way 1 to 1000 times for heading out the door could care less. Please go ahead, piss yourselves silly, thinking that somehow any Black has time to waste when at home, to listen to music of the people who hate us, who murder us because… well, one can. Stay there in your parallel universe, lying to yourselves about how great you are – greater wealth and market share does not make for superior art; it is merely damn good business as much as so as are drugs. Don’t, however, for nanosecond get carried away with your deluded, revisionist sacrilege, talking knee-on-our-neck odious crap, “Jazz has its roots in klezmer!” “Jazz is American music! Nope, not having it!

Red Azaleas Singing and Dancing Rock and Roll Music

Acrylic on Canvas

73 34 × 158 12 × 2 12 in.

Alma Thomas

1976

Provenance: Smithsonian American Art Museum.

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How could you possibly expect us to suffer you anywhere near Jazz? Your perception of us; indeed, your notion of what we are and how we should be perceived and celebrated, are as dumb-no-fuck, bug-eyed blasted coons at whom you get to laugh. An Oscar is nothing more than these TV singing competitions where the winner is determined by the votes of well-groomed Joe & Karen Bigot where the outcome will almost always be predictably White. Imagine that, the year that Jennifer Hudson appeared on American Idol, she did not win the competition. The Academy has deemed that Black women are not deserving of a best actress Oscar, anymore than they can damn-well sing. Imagine, Bette Carter, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Sarah Vaughan to name but a handful’s legitimacy, determined by the purely predictable, racialised bias of the Academy and its none-too-liberal members. There really ought to be litigation all the way to the U. S. Supreme Court to determine once and for all, if foreign-born actors are eligible to win an American award, the Oscar, when the awards are an American rather than a film festival’s prize. The very heritage of American cinema demands nothing less.

Jazz is Black culture. Jazz is Black high art. Jazz is Black spirituality. Jazz is the assertion of our humanity in the face of your savagery. Jazz music is the language of Black culture’s high-priests, its poets, its genius visionaries. Jazz… it’s about us.

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

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

Tis The Season… Cicadas Abound!

Let’s show those crass, Yanks some class! Who does she think she is, parading about New York City… as if? World premier, it is. We’ll pull out all the stops and banish their coverage. Alas, always missing the mark, these island dwellers. Then again, it is the year of the cicada, replete with dragging wings… ha! Coming thru y’all… Princess Gurn and Squeak de Bourbon y Bucklebury, looking so on point – her outfit like yet another discarded cicada shell this summer. Though, truth be told, it does bring back memories of that god awful shower curtain at my Côte-des-Neiges apartment.

Suddenly, I feel some Johnny Cash coming on…. gurn gurn gurn gurn… poom pee doom doom dooo… yee-haw! The dead eye, the mouldy sillage of sodden cardboard weighs down the air… Soon, another face-hurting outing completed, she can lamentably go home with the bald, simpleton Bourbon bastard, argue, bitch some more, have a drink, eat a lima bean or two then control that figure by chain smoking well into the night… charmant. How appropriate the choice of gown that deftly mirrors the shell of a life of ennui and playing dress up.

As for this absurd reinvention of the listless, mousy, Edward Gorey, gurning ghoul, by Britons one and all, Catherine has, truth be told, evolved into every bull dyke’s wet dream.

All she said was, ‘Hi everybody’ and all New York, alas, all America was besotted. Though the British media have all but burnt the negro at the stake, there she was in Central Park and more radiant than Jeanne d’Arc, after having survived the isle of racist boors by whom she was no doubt spiritually crushed.

My silver crown can be seen directly to the right and ahead of the male whose face is covered by :16 from the time with the red line just below my right ear in capture of the YouTube video of Channel 4 coverage with royal commentator, Alastair Bruce on Remembrance Sunday, 2018 at Whitehall.

I will never forget standing in Whitehall on Remembrance Sunday 2018 and being exhausted from the hatefulness being directed towards the Duchess of Sussex from positively everyone around me.

A Berry Royal Christmas, 2019

Sorry Yank haters, the camera does not lie… stop pretending you did not notice that snippet into their true relations… Like Andrew’s seedy proclivities, you cannot indefinitely explain the truth away.

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

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.

The Essence of Good Theatre: Artifice!

What? Are you mad? Why ever would we be in any way culpable with the Duchess of Sussex’s tabloid lynching? That’s preposterous…. Just as absurd as the notion that we are very much a racist family…. What marvellous pantomime this!

Waleses: HRH Prince George, HRH Prince Louis & HRH Princess Charlotte, 2021

Okay, get the kids; we have to reshoot this thing; sorry but we don’t need your mousy voiceovers or ubiquitous bitching, just let’s go for the pre-talkies approach… Do the manic gurning and just make sure that you remember, you are roasting the marshmallows not each other… avoid the urge to shove the other into the fire. You know what, let’s play it safe; let’s get a second bale of hay, please. Remember, let’s show those Yanks that TV has nothing on the theatre that is our royal pantomime.

Waleses:TRH William and Catherine, Prince & Princess of Wales, HRH Prince George, HRH Princess Charlotte & HRH Prince George.

Take it from Sweet Brown, if it ain’t sublime theatre… never mind; ain’t nobody got time for artifice.

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

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©2013-2023 Arvin da Brgha. All Rights Reserved.