On the 230th anniversary of the death of Wolfgang Mozart…

He told us what was happening to him,

but we did not believe him.

He may even have asked for help,

but we will never know that…

Surrounded by adversaries pretending to be friends,

colleagues and kin,

he fought until the bitter end…

He never gave up…

Instead, Mozart gave us his last major opera,

The Magic Flute…

And he gave us the Requium…

supposed to have been written under another’s name…

A final disgrace…

An ultimate humiliation…

He thought he had to do this for money

for his family…

His body was tossed into an open grave…

No autopsy for him

While his adversaries breathed a sigh of relief

that the truth would never be known

That he was surrounded by a Vortex of the Evil Eye

that took him down

One tiny dose of poison after another

Cleverly spaced

Administered by different people

at various times

Just enough to keep him on edge

to turn the waves of shalom from his music

into money and favor for them

they all took a kind of mark

as a result

Salieri gave him the final dose

at dinner

Then Mozart took to his bed

never to rise again.

Make sure to tell the public he was bad with money

they whispered

That way, no one will ever guess that

what really happened

was a murder most foul…

My best friend is getting married today…

We have been friends for over 30 years. Brad has had my back through thick and thin. I am so excited for him, his lovely bride Missy and her two adorable boys. Brad also has two grown sons from his first marriage.

For now, let me just add that this takes place 11 years to the day of the death of my mother, Katherine, whom I consider to be the real Queen of the Night. She bewitched us all with her charm and dark powers, but now, we are all coming into the light of day…

Here is her obit…


To make matters even more exciting — if that is possible — today is also the open house of the new owners of the barn where my horse is stabled. That will be, to say the least, Utter Dylerium. I was concerned I might have to pry Miles off the ceiling when I got there, as there were over 200 people, as well as hay rides (next to his pasture) and a band and who knows what else…<groan>…but he loved it all!

And yes, they were even playing Dylan…

So, if you follow along with the plot of Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute, you will see that we have come to the end of it…with Papageno and Papagena living happily ever after…the Queen, the Kingdom of the Night and Monostatos’ power is destroyed forever…oh, and, if you look closely and see that the minister looks kind of like a Sarastro, well, don’t be surprised. After all, this is about The Magic Flute. And, in sweet irony, it was Pastor Jac who came to my house the day that my darling Donner died, amidst all the tumult, ambulance, and the trauma of that terrible afternoon, he was a calming and gentle influence for me and my two younger children who were trying to process it all…

Oh! You just might want to listen for the voice of Wolf in his Zauberflote as well…


It was the first of February

A cold winter day

with brilliant sunlight struggling to chase away

some gray doubts and questions

Could this really work?

Could we make a life together

in the bitter frigid North?

With his moving all the way

from Ann Arbor to Minnesota

to start a new life?

He cut his hair off the next day

I asked him why

He mumbled, ‘I can’t say’

and left me wondering

and so we went on

harboring some sort of mystery that grew

like an octopus between us

But things that came apart

we mended and repaired

and we remembered that

at the time of a scuzzy comet

we had met

through JFK’s assassination

each of us looking for answers


We traveled to Dallas

to see for ourselves

but did that help?

Or were we under the thrall of an

invisible man? A Leviathan?

We could not tell…

Something underneath

was stalking our success

our home at times divided

over what, we did not know

We whirled around in the darkness

searching for stability

we’d try to catch it

but then it would somehow slip away

We bravely fought together

united we were so strong

though still the ground was shifting

and it wasn’t very long

before we sensed a gentle, frantic helplessness

we’d try to grab our dream and instead choke it

like rose petals

it seemed to scatter

hopelessly into the wind

I could not hold onto him for very long

it seemed no more than a day

Suddenly, the air turned to ice

and bitter frigid wind blew through

I called out, but it was too late

He died in my arms in the

blazing noonday sun

on JFK’s birthday…

then heat

enveloped us in mockery

there was so much left to say

He was like a moonbeam

fragile yet incandescently bright

he slipped away into

the vortex

of fog and of night

Delta Flight

I had my feet up on a couch at JFK, looking at the toes of my Airs

While we waited to see which plane

would take us far away

The hump-backed 747’s were lined up outside

one smaller jet in the middle

We were to fly all night across the sea

to a country that was new to me,

a place I had avoided until now.

Vienna calling, Falco said.

And how.

The UMD singers, my daughter in their midst

my future son-in-law

my younger son came with

as a chaperone, no less

He could out-party all the rest

And so the time dragged by

I squeezed a world-design stress ball

and watched the sky

At last we boarded, and you should see

the face I must have made as we passed by

the giant planes and ended up in a

two-engine miniature

Austrian Airlines, you see,

is run by Delta too…

I settled into a window seat over the wing,

heavy with foreboding

we need at least three engines for the

November turbulence over the


Just then the cabin was filled with

another company of youngsters,

A band of cheerleaders from various schools

in uniform

pom-poms slammed into overheads

squealing and yelling far above

the more measured choir tones.

We took off into the night sky

That looks like Long Island, I sigh

Just about over Center Moriches

the plane began to shudder and pitch

We’re in for quite a ride…

For four hours we lunged around the sky

Dames und Herren, you are about to die

I kept hearing in my head

The wings flapped like a bird

I didn’t know they could do that

And with every thunderous settling as we

staggered across the sky

the cheerleaders shrieked and yelled

with voices pitched so high

they could have strangled themselves…

But with each garbled announcement

we climbed a thousand feet

Not one of us stopped to wonder

when we would ever eat

But finally we rose above the fractured waves of air

and saw the lights of parallel flights

we might make it there

after all

The stewards brought mystery meat

which I could not digest the thought of

much less the actuality

I did not have the courage to get up and stretch

so sat numbly the rest of the nine hour ride

We gave a great cheer as we landed in a foggy soup

And as we waited to depart

a Mozart piece tugged at my heart

playing softly through the intercom

A Salzburg piece, a divertimento

pure and sweet

and all at once I knew

this just might be the start of our

historic dream come true.

If only I could find a place to pee!

My daughter guarded the men’s room for me,

We’d seen it first, I could not wait

such was our fate

I heard that piece in my head again today

And wept for all the heartache that has come our way

since then

and also wondered if anyone had really cried

for what happened to Wolfgang Mozart

when he died.

It may be that a Minnegeddon is here

and that we have by now all learned to fear

an unknown judgment from

the evil of those days

A nation he never knew must justify

the way it treated him

And only God can tell

if we are headed into Heaven or to Hell…

The enemy I see…

When we think of Wolfgang Mozart we see a sublime genius of such brilliance that he was hunted down wherever he went. We see a man surrounded by people who was, in fact, immensely alone. We see someone who succumbed to the excitement of the Enlightenment and occult by becoming a Mason, and a man who supposedly mismanaged his money and left a terrible mess for his family. But what we don’t see is that which we are not supposed to know.

Much about Mozart’s life has, in fact, been deliberately concealed. This was done for nefarious reasons — most importantly, money. If the world knew the truth about the gifts that Mozart brought with him into this world, the monetary system of this planet might be changed. Nations rising and falling might be different. War might even become a thing of the past.

But we, the common people — the salt of the earth — are to be kept in the dark by these elitists who hold the dark secret of what happened to Mozart close to their hearts — or what is left of them. They smile at us and then usher us into servitude, while they rule the world. They send out coded hints of disasters to come that throw us into a panic. They laugh at us, because they know and we don’t…

But this Corona pandemic is changing everything. That which was concealed is now being revealed. It is easy for us to accept the possibility that Mozart at some point realized he had to separate himself from those closest to him in order to stay alive as long as he did. He learned that there was danger at every turn, and that smiling faces could conceal an assassin’s vicious intent.

Mozart told us about these things, but nobody listened to him. He said that he felt he was being systematically poisoned by those who had timed the hour of his death. He even named the substance — aqua toffana.

Now, perhaps, everyone will take another look…

But there was a further evil attacking Mozart, more deadly than his closest family and friends. I believe it was a dark angel that guarded this extra gift Mozart had been given that was the reason for his untimely death. This dark angel attacked him and his family members, trying to turn them all into monsters — into assassins. All they had to do was administer one small dose of poison and then stick close to him. Then they could steal this precious gift and use it for themselves. And so, one by one, nearly everyone close to him was compromised.

Did Mozart ever actually see this dark angel? I do not know. But we do know something he did see, which may represent the dark angel in human form — the mysterious visitor who, at the end of his life, enticed him to write his own requium under someone else’s name because he was in such need of money.

This is the hidden theme of the movie Amadeus. The insiders are showing us while concealing the truth what actually happened.

We just need to know how to look…

As the poet and songwriter Bob Dylan said in Slow Train Coming…the enemy I see wears a cloak of decency…

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