Saturday, November 23, 2019

I've been wishing I could share this extraordinary video with everybody for many years. Now you can view it for free!



What About Me?  is the second album by UK duo Jamie Catto and Duncan Bridgeman under the name 1 Giant Leap. The duo traveled around the world recording vocals and music by artists of various genres. The DVD/CD version of the album was released in March 2009.

I consider the 1 Giant Leap  project among the most brilliant and accomplished independent productions since the start of the Digital Era. A must-watch, especially now it's on YouTube!

[First posted 9 January 2013]

Friday, November 22, 2019

WHY I TOLERATE FACEBOOK... (repost)

In March 2009 I received a message via Facebook from someone I hadn't been in contact with since 1989. I'd known her as Virginia Kelly and she had been traveling with her bosom pal Jane when I met the duo on Tioman Island. Jane and Virginia accepted my invitation to visit when they were in KL and I recall we had a real jolly time. Then they left for Australia and there was an exchange of letters for a period, but that eventually fizzled out.

Virginia sent me a lovely, chatty email along with a whole bunch of scanned images that effectively collapsed the 20-year gap. It was truly delightful to view photos taken in 1989 that I had never seen. Whatever happened to my youthful good looks? 😥

Anyway, I just felt like sharing this recently retrieved fragment of my past...

The Rt. Hon. Armpit or Nutopian Embassy Residence 
@ 7 Pesiaran Ampang Hilir where I lived from 1970-1991. 
Looked like a hovel from the outside but it felt like a palace to me!
The-Pyramid-That-Xandi-Built was located behind 'The Armpit'
and served as an exotic guestroom
The cluttered living room where I received a broad spectrum of visitors:
from junkies and prostitutes to princes, princesses, sages, wizards, kings
and queens in exile, and goddesses of all shapes and sizes
The cap was a present from Denis Hewett.
It's still lying around somewhere!
Roxanne, the neurotic dog I inherited from former housemate Jeanne Donven
Virginia's attempt at low-light portraiture...
or perhaps I was completely stoned at the time?
Jane and Virginia (wearing my Balinese jacket) dining at the Bangles
Mary, Virginia and Jane at CJ's pub
Aha! It appears I was there too...
Who dat Dancin' Fool?
Now he's making a monkey of himself on the drumkit...
Imbi Road was a favorite haunt (oops, whose earring am I wearing?)
Camera on self-timer. Sorry, my hand got in the way, Mary!
Warding off Virginia's pheromones (or zapping her with chi,
not sure exactly what I was up to)

The 1972 Fiat Polski I inherited from Xandi Hoesch, the famous pyramid builder

Hello dear Antares,

Thank you so much for your prompt reply to my message on facebook. I was so happy to hear from you. Sorry I have taken so long to reply, you must think me very slack...

When I told Jane that I had googled you on the net and had actually found you.... she was amazed and said “so did he remember us”? I said to her well he didn’t actually say if he did... I think he did... but I can’t be sure ha ha ha ha!!! 

You were a very popular, extremely charismatic and fascinating special being then with loads of friends, and I can see that continues with over 1,100 friends on facebook. Wow!!! So I think for you to remember 2 young Aussie girls that briefly passed through would be pretty amazing... although I do think we kept in touch for a little while - you wrote to me in London... I do remember you sent me that pic of you and Marilia (the one you have on your bio). So then I dug out my ‘ol travel pics and found some of us and thought I would send them to you. I assume you have broadband with all your blogging with loads of pics etc. (I do hope you do... apologies in advance for the large email if you haven’t!!! but I think somehow you must to do what you do on the net???)

Anyway none of the pics are fabulous shots but some are funny with the expressions on some of our faces!!! Anyway I hope that the pics jog your memory (apologies for the blurry ones!! but I still thought they were worth sending even if they were blurry!!)

Oh there was another thing I thought was funny and wanted to share with you... Jane & I were both reminiscing - about lots of things... then we started talking about the little presents that you gave each of us the day we left your place in KL. The little round tin you gave me with the dice in it. The blue scarab beetle you gave Jane. I have my tin sitting on top of my fridge and frequently give it a little shake of the die and I have a code for different numbers... for some answers to some questions... strange I know... but I have always had it not far from me all these years... and Jane (who is extremely minimalist) still has her scarab beetle in her bedside drawer... I was so surprised about that... She rents a little building on this guy's place (he had originally built it for his wife to use to massage clients... (she left him... for a client I think!!) anyway it’s just a room with another room with a small kitchen and small bathroom... So being so small she doesn’t have very much with her... I guess what I am saying that I think it amazing that 2 old women (I can’t believe I said that about Jane and I ha ha ha !!!) still have those gifts from so long ago and they both still mean so much to us both... Hmmm ain’t that nice... Got a nice warm feeling now have you!!! ha ha ha!!! Well you should - you deserve it!!

Well it is a couple of days later and I still haven’t finished this email... Andy and I just got back from Brisbane today... We went down to go see the band ‘Coldplay’ it was a good night... We both really enjoy our music. I like most of the music he likes but he doesn’t like a lot of music I do... I recently went down on my own to Brisbane to see Leonard Cohen... You’d know him wouldn’t you? He is more of a poet than a singer. I just couldn’t miss this tour... At 74 he decided to tour again... and said quite honestly it was because he needed the money. I love his music, in fact I can say it was one of the best concerts I have ever been to. Andy makes fun of him saying his music is depressing and he calls his music wrist slashing music to die to,,. I say if you think that you just “don’t get it” Ha ha ha!!!

I have so enjoyed looking through the pics you have on facebook and also the family pod pics... through other links. I see Mary is there... We met Mary, I am sure it is the same Mary... she is in the pictures I am sending you. What is she up to now? What about your girls... All grown up and have children of their own now... Jane reminded me that we met one of your daughters whilst we were staying at your place... and haven’t you got some gorgeous grandchildren... Sexy grandad indeed!!!!!!... And now you have a young son with Anoora... wow!!! I love touching base with old friends and getting the gaps filled in... what useful things have they done... and how have they spent their time. It looks to me that you have had a wonderful life (and still do!!)... Full of connecting with people from all over the place and through your blog informing and stimulating awareness and conversation about important issues... You are a very special being Antares!!!

The Moossajee Family: Ryan, Andy & Gemma

I am also sending a fairly recent pic of Andy and Gemma and Ryan. Andy was born in England (Gloucester) but his Mum is Welsh (living in Australia now) and his Father was born in Mauritius (but has been living in Switzerland for the last 35 or so years) so in case you are wondering where the colourful surname ‘Moossajee’ came from. There are only 6 of us in Australia... Andy & I and our kids and Andy’s brother in Melbourne and his wife... so it is a little unusual over here... it is pronounced Moose-a gee!!! I never had to spell or pronounce Kelly (my maiden name) ha ha ha!!!

Anyway I want to get this sent to you so you can see the pics and see if you remember us... be honest!!! We won’t be offended... As I see it you have 1000’s of people pass through your life and you can’t possibly remember everyone...

Take care and I will be continuing to read your blog so I can get a picture and be informed about these issues that you write about... hopefully when you have time you can drop me a line (part of me feels like you have so many people to keep in touch with already that another will only burden your already overloaded cyber correspondence) but I will be happy to hear from you if/when you have time...

With love and cyber hugs x Virg


[First posted 18 March 2009]

Revealed: The Men Who Killed JFK (repost)


The Last Confession Of E. Howard Hunt - US government/CIA team murdered JFK

By Larry Chin
Online Journal Associate Editor
Rolling Stone
4-4-7

The April 5 issue of Rolling Stone features the deathbed confession of CIA operative and key Bay of Pigs/Watergate/Nixon administration figure E. Howard Hunt, The Last Confession of E. Howard Hunt by Erik Hedegaard. This piece is significant not only for its exploration of Hunt, but for breakthrough information that appears to thoroughly corroborate the work of key John F. Kennedy assassination researchers and historians.

Who killed JFK?

According to Hunt's confession, which was taken by his son, St. John ("Saint") Hunt, over the course of many personal and carefully planned father-son meetings, the following individuals were among the key participants:

Lyndon B. Johnson: LBJ, whose own career was assisted by JFK nemesis J. Edgar Hoover (FBI), gave the orders to a CIA-led hit team, and helped guide the Warren Commission/lone gunman cover-up.

Cord Meyer
: CIA agent, architect of the Operation Mockingbird disinformation apparatus, and husband of Mary Meyer (who had an affair with JFK).

David Atlee Philips
: CIA and Bay of Pigs veteran. Recruited William Harvey (CIA) and Cuban exile militant Antonio Veciana.

William Harvey: CIA and Bay of Pigs veteran. Connected to Mafia figures Santos Trafficante and Sam Giancana.

Antonio Veciana: Cuban exile, founder of CIA-backed Alpha 66.

Frank Sturgis: CIA operative, mercenary, Bay of Pigs veteran, and later Watergate figure.

David Morales: CIA hit man, Bay of Pigs veteran. Morales was also a figure involved with the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.

Lucien Sarti: Corsican assassin and drug trafficker, possible "French gunman," Grassy Knoll (second) shooter.

Would Hunt continue to tell lies on his deathbed? Perhaps. Would Hunt tell a final tall story or two, to protect himself, or perhaps deal one final slap in the face to the US government (which made him a fall guy for Watergate)? Yes. Would Hunt hide the involvement of certain individuals to whom he remained loyal, including people who are still alive? Certainly. Anything from an operative like Hunt can only be accepted with caution and healthy skepticism.

Nevertheless, Hunt's scenario has the ring of truth.


Each of the named names are well-known CIA and CIA-linked players exposed by many researchers and historians who have detailed the enduring connection from the Bay of Pigs and the Dallas hit to Watergate and Iran-Contra.

The Hunt confession vindicates generations of historians, researchers and whistleblowers who have given their lives and careers to expose the truth about Dealey Plaza. While there are too many to name, they include, but are not limited to (and in no particular order): Jim Garrison, Mark Lane, Fletcher Prouty, Josiah Thompson, Carl Oglesby, Peter Dale Scott, Anthony Summers, Robert Groden, Victor Marchetti, David Lifton, Harrison Livingstone, Michael Canfield, A.J. Weberman, Sylvia Meagher, William Turner, Jim Marrs, Pete Brewton, John Newman, Philip Melanson, Hal Verb, Mae Brussell, Harold Weisberg, Oliver Stone, Mike Ruppert and Dan Hopsicker, Jim diEugenio and Linda Pease.

Meanwhile, the criminal deceptions of the US government and its corporate media, the Warren Commission, and the dirty work of cover-up specialists such as Gerald Posner and Mark Fuhrman, and the legions of JFK assassination revisionist/theorists, deserve a final rebuke, and eternal scorn.

Highlighting Hunt's role

Although the Rolling Stone piece does not address it, the Hunt confession directly corroborates two classic investigations that previously exposed the role of Hunt. They are Mark Lane's Plausible Denial and Michael Canfield/A.J. Weberman's Coup D'Etat in America. Lane's book details how he took Hunt to court, and won a libel suit, essentially proving that the CIA murdered JFK, and that Hunt lied about his whereabouts. The investigation of Canfield and Weberman identified Hunt and Frank Sturgis as two of the three "tramps" arrested at Dealey Plaza.

Time has only made these investigations more relevant. More than ever, their books, and those of the JFK historians and researchers above listed, deserve to be found, read and studied.

Hunt to Nixon to Bush

The Rolling Stone piece fails to go after the roles of Richard Nixon and George Herbert Walker Bush. But the Hunt confession, if accurate, leads directly to them, to their lifelong associates, and all the way to the present George W. Bush administration.

The Dallas-Watergate-Iran-Contra connection has been thoroughly documented by the key JFK researchers, and in particular, in the work of Peter Dale Scott, one of the very first to show the deep political continuity across three decades. Daniel Hopsicker's Barry and the Boys goes into even more detail on the players.

Consider the career of George H.W. Bush. He was a Texas oilman (Zapata Oil) and a CIA operative, involved with the Bay of Pigs. Bush's name was found in the papers of George DeMohrenschildt, one of Lee Harvey Oswald's CIA handlers. As documented by Pete Brewton, author of The Mafia, the CIA and George Bush, Bush was deeply connected with a small circle of Texas elites tied to the CIA and the Mafia, as well as the Florida-based CIA/anti-Casto Cuban exile/ Mafia milieu As Richard Nixon's hand-picked Republican National Committee chairman, and later as CIA director, Bush constantly covered-up and stonewalled for his boss about Watergate, which itself (by the admission of Frank Sturgis and others) was a cover-up of the JFK assassination.

Tracking any of the individual CIA operatives involved with the Bay of Pigs, it is impossible to ignore or deny direct connections to George H.W. Bush and his crime family, across the Kennedy assassinations, covert operations in Indochina and, later, Latin America.

Beyond any reasonable doubt, the US government murdered John F. Kennedy. There are people still alive today who were involved directly and indirectly implicated. Some are probably even serving in positions of high influence. Some still have never been identified or touched.

All of these individuals still need to be pursued, exposed, and brought to justice.

Copyright © 1998-2007 Online Journal

[Thanks to Dave Blackman, who forwarded the Rense.com report!]

Two Members of the Bush Crime Family: George W and George H.W. (Grandpa Prescott Bush co-founded the infamous Skull & Bones Society and laundered Nazi money through his bank during WWII)

[First posted 6 April 2007, reposted 22 November 2015]

Monday, November 18, 2019

a concise but accurate & comprehensive account of the universe


PART ONE

“The Universe?”

“The Universe.”

With the resounding vigor of an apoplectic horse, the portly priest blew his nose and tossed the soggy ball of tissue paper towards a handwoven rattan wastebasket. He missed, though this escaped his notice and, wiping the tip of his nose with the back of a pudgy hand, he said:

“You will please excuse my cold. Even we physicians of the soul are not exempt from viruses, ha ha!” The laugh came from his throat and his face was still red from the effort. “Ah… what was the question again?”

“I asked what your conception was of the Universe, Father.”

“Yes, yes… but, my son, I have no conception. I am merely God’s instrument. I serve no purpose but that which He has determined for me. If you ask me for a conception of the Universe, I can only tell you that which I have learned from reading God’s Word.”

“And what is that?”

The priest carefully pressed the tips of his fat fingers together: “The Universe is God’s masterpiece in harmony. Everything that exists is purposed by its Creator. It is the sum-total of His infinite wisdom.”

“That’s most lucid, Father.”

“Good. And may I add, my son, since God is perfect, the Universe is perfect, too.”

“Perfect? But, Father, I don’t quite see how.”

“Ah, but you are young, my son, and only a mortal. For the day you can understand God’s mysterious ways you will be more exalted than the angels.”

“Do you mean to say, Father, even flies and bacteria that cause disease have a purpose; that even an asteroid traveling endlessly in the void of deep space has a purpose?”

“You have an eager young mind, my son. That is good. But as I told you, God is omniscient! Nothing He creates is without purpose; only you might not see that purpose in this earthbound plane of existence.”

“Then even death has a purpose, Father?”

“Death, and the process that follows it, is the initial step towards the ultimate understanding of God’s Perfect Plan.”

“Are you saying there can be no purpose in life but only in death?”

“No, my son, no, no… One can always try to lead a good, Godfearing life in order that death may be accepted as an occasion for rejoicing rather than mourning. Life, my son, is part of the terrible test God our Father has set for us, and the only way you can show your love and devotion is to do well in that… at… at… atchoo!” A deafening sneeze drowned his last words.

The priest dried his bloodshot eyes on the sleeve of his satin surplice, sniffing noisily. “I am sorry, my son, um, where was I?”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, Father. I want to thank you for answering my questions. I was very impressed.”

"Of course, my son. I enjoyed chatting with you. By the way, I don’t recall seeing your face in my church. Are you by chance a Presbyterian, perhaps?”

“No, I’m a student.”

“Good, good, very good.” He sighed and stopped a sneeze by inhaling violently. “Well, my son, go with God.”

PART TWO

“The Universe, dear boy, can exist only when all the cosmic forces are in equilibrium.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite comprehend, sir.”

“Ah, I see.” The wizened metaphysician curled his silver goatee around a thin, graceful finger. “Ah, I see, I see.”

There was an uneasy silence as the student waited for the great scholar to continue. The metaphysician was preoccupied with trying to tie a knot in his goatee.

“Er… what I mean is, sir, well, I don’t exactly see what you mean.”

“Let me put it this way, my dear boy.” A sudden spark appeared in the old scholar’s eyes. “The entire Universe functions on a very fundamental basis of balance. In everything you can detect the same pattern, from the ultra-microscopic to the super-telescopic.”

“Pattern?”

“Yes. Definitely. Existence is possible as a consequence of the equilibrium produced by conflicting forces: Life and Death, Light and Dark, Black and White, Abundance and Scarcity, Good and Evil, Truth and Falsehood, Happiness and Misery, Male and Female, Mountain and Valley, High and Low, Large and Small, Hot and Cold, Yin and Yang… can you perceive the pattern?”

“Well, yes… vaguely.”

“Can’t you see? It is the constant conflict of all those Forces that results in the balance essential to the very existence of the Universe. The ultimate aim of every single existence is to attain that perfect state of equilibrium – inertia! Yes, inertia! The very basis of being is a ceaseless struggle to attain inertia. Continuity, perpetuity, coiling and uncoiling. The completion of the circle. Inertia.”

The metaphysician broke off in a spasm of dry, convulsive coughs. When the attack was over he took a long sip from the glass of sherry on his desk, muttering an excuse that it was good for his cough. Clearing his throat, he continued:

“Can you not grasp the inexorable pattern that governs the Cosmos? Does it not overwhelm you to merely think about it?” He broke off, coughing again.

“Forgive me, dear boy, I am at a loss for words. I cannot help choking with fulfilment each time I see the vast intricacies of the Universe fall so effortlessly into one immense, awesome, sublime pattern…”

“This is certainly most fascinating, sir. But what exactly do you mean by inertia? Isn’t it a continual state of being?”

“You may call it that if you wish. You see, an object that is immobile wishes to remain so; one that is in motion is reluctant to change its course or to stop. Similarly, a person who is alive desires to remain so, but once death puts an end to his life, he has entered a new state of being – or non-being – and will desire to remain dead. And since death is, to all intents and purposes, continual, death is inertia.”

“You said that everything in the Universe strives for inertia. Do you mean that everything desires death?”

The metaphysician uncurled his goatee and allowed it to spring back to its original position. He scratched his chin, and a thin smile crept across his ascetic face. He coughed goodnaturedly.

“That, my dear boy, is a good question… however, I’m afraid I don’t feel at all my usual self and shall have to interrupt this absorbing dialogue, much to my regret, and get some badly needed rest.”


PART THREE

“When we speak of the Universe, we are of course referring to the lifeforms that occupy it, no?”

“Lifeforms?”

“The Universe is nothing without Life. So don’t you agree that in considering the Universe as a Whole…”

“As a hole? I don’t really follow you there, doctor.”

“Jcchk, I mean to say… instead of considering the Universe as an abstract concept, we might be better off discussing LIFE, per se, ja?”

“But how about the billions of lifeless stars and other celestial bodies that comprise the Universe? Don’t they matter?”

“Definitely. You are assuming, no doubt, that there is no life outside of the planet Earth. In the study of biology that could be a most misleading assumption. We must think of life in other forms besides those familiar to us, you see.”

“Yes, I see what you’re getting at.”

“So you understand what I mean when I say we should think of the Universe in terms of the lifeforms that inhabit it, am I correct? Okay, good. Now, everyone knows that survival is the greatest aim of all living things, no? Nothing exists if Life does not exist. Therefore, Life is the most important urge in the Universe. You will further observe that in order to preserve Life by perpetuating their species, all living things undergo reproduction of some sort; and then, to ensure the survival of their offspring, these living things die, so that there will be no lack of space and the cyclical regeneration of nutritive matter can occur. It is a neverending process which has gone on, and will go on and on infinitely. Life… then death… and life again as a result of death. Astounding, no?”

“Astounding, yes!”

Clucking affectionately, the biologist focused his microscope on a glass slide where an amoeba was wobbling along determinedly, trapped within a drop of fluid. “Ah, my little Mabel – she is a veritable miracle of unicellulation, ja?”

The student bent over the microscope to take a look.

“And yet,” the biologist went on, “she is the unique epitome of Life itself! She need never fear age nor senility, for she merely splits in two, then four, then eight. She knows no death… unless, of course, the water bubble she is swimming in evaporates without warning.”

He reached for a glass of drinking salts which had ceased effervescing; a powdery white precipitate lined its bottom. “I have the acid in my system,” he remarked. Then he licked his lips, made a face, and carried on:

“Alas! With multicellulation, complexity, and what we call evolutionary sophistication, death has entered the picture. No complex lifeform can expect to live indefinitely; and, the fact is, its struggle for survival benefits not itself but its offspring. And the same goes for its offspring: they fight to exist for the sake of their offspring, and so on. Sad but true, Life cannot be without Death. This is the Universal Paradox.”

The biologist seemed pleased with this statement, and gulped down the rest of his drinking salts without a grimace.

“I’m sorry, doctor, but I don’t believe I understood that last bit. What you said about life being an offshoot of death. Is that what you mean?”

“Life springs from death. Death springs from life. Ach, but who cares, after all, ja? We limit our consideration to Life only. That is a much brighter prospect, no?”

“Yes, I agree, but I’m still puzzled by what you said about there being no life without death…”

“Or no death without life, put it anyway you like. It is the same, I think.”

“Let us talk about your conception of death, then, doctor.”

“Ach, ach, no, no, no! Remember, biology is the study of living things. If you wish to know about death, consult a mortician, ha ha ha!”


PART FOUR

The Professor’s face was crimson. He wasn’t angry. He had high blood pressure, and everyone kept saying he ought to take a rest. But he was an obstinate old coot. “My work is more important,” he insisted. He was fond of defining and measuring the importance of things.

“Oh, good morning, Professor.”

“Yes, yes, good morning, if you say so. It’s much too humid for pleasantries.”

“Er, Professor, I’ve done the research. Here’s the paper I’ve written.”

“Ahhh. Your thesis. Let’s have a look… Hmmmmm, a little on the short side, I’m afraid." He shook the paper in the student's face and continued: “Short indeed! A long way from what one might classify as verbose, hmmm. Extraordinarily compact, in fact. Hmmmmm, let’s see…”

The student self-consciously lit a cigarette and tried not to notice the strange expression on the Professor’s face as he read the essay. But he couldn’t help observing that the old man’s face had reddened even more. He half expected the Professor to explode with something like: “This puerile jest fails to amuse me!”

However, the Professor was quite restrained, knowing how important it was to keep calm. His white, brittle hair stood out in stark contrast with his flushed face.

“Aha! Aha! What’s this? Quote: There is no Universe without Life. Life is a glass of wine and death the dregs that await at the bottom. The Universe is the wine, the dregs, the glass, the drinker, and the Thirsty Soul that oscillates between ecstasy and despondency, replenishing her vessel in perpetuity. Unquote…”

The Professor’s wry smile was almost humorous. “Which reminds me, “ he said, looking up from the essay and reaching for a bottle of port from the tray beside him. “May I offer you a tipple?”

The student politely declined, clearing his throat somewhat neurasthenically. He had a maniacal urge to leap out the window and get away from the Professor and his stuffy office.

“Life is a glass of wine, eh?” said the Professor, lifting the glass of port to his lips with a raised pinkie. He let out a weary sigh. “Rather interesting, I must admit. Even poetic, but I’m afraid rather inconclusive and vague, to say the least. Hmmmmm…”

The Professor turned the glass round in his heavily veined hand, absently studying the ruby liquid. “You have omitted a very important thing no essay should ever be without. You have not specified the essence of your concepts relative to your allegorical argument, and this seriously weakens your thesis.”

The Professor sighed again, as though in pain, and said, more softly now: “Body… and substance… that is what’s lacking. Rather inconclusive, I’m afraid.”

Then he gulped down the port, which ostensibly cheered him, for he looked up at the student and smiled his usual sanguine smile.


Text & Illustrations © Antares, 1967 & 2015

Joseph F. Martino, Jr in 1968
Joseph F. Martino, Jr (who studied Literature at Cornell under the tutelage of Vladimir Nabokov) taught creative writing at West Essex High School, New Jersey, in the 1960s. 

As a 17-year-old exchange student I happened to enrol in Joe's class in the fall of 1967 and this was my first attempt at a short story. It now comes across as a naïve and pretentious foray into the nebulous domains of epistemology and ontology, but since Joe very generously gave me an 'A' for it, I'll be brazen and publish it here for archival interest - and as a tribute to a truly dedicated mentor I shall never forget.

[First posted 23 August 2015, reposted 4 July 2017]

Sunday, November 17, 2019

ANNAPURNA ~ GODDESS OF PLENTY (432Hz)



I haven't made any videos is quite a while. My Panasonic DVC32 requires repair and I no longer have access to iMovie because my iBookG4 was officially retired in 2009.

So I downloaded Windows Movie Maker (inspired by my blogger buddy Paula Khoo's ventures into homemade videos) and, to explore the possibilities of this very basic program, I decided to make an unhurried music video using my 1985 composition (from the 2nd Coming album) as the soundtrack. But first I converted the overall pitch to 432Hz with GoldWave  - it doesn't sound much different to my ears, actually, but my intuition tells me the whole world will soon abandon the 440Hz tuning imposed on us by the Nazis and their Illuminati brethren, the Rockefellers. Perhaps this will happen in 2021?

In the process I discovered it's not much fun making glorified slideshows, still prefer to work with kinetic images. One of these days I'll test out my phone tripod, see if I can get back into shooting and editing videos. Meanwhile, just sit back with a nice cup of tea and relax to my humble offering with the audio turned up...

[First posted 27 November 2011]