Document:Impressions of my two days with Gilad Atzmon
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Impressions of my two days with Gilad Atzmon
From the moment we picked up Gilad at the Austin-Bergstrom Int’l Airport, it was a joy. He was warm, friendly, compassionate, highly perceptive, was always smiling, and is hilarious one moment and profound and serious in the next. He carried only his alto saxophone case, a heavy backpack, and medium-sized suitcase, which I found out were mainly stuffed full of copies of his book, “The Wandering Who?” and other than than, he was traveling lightly.
We took him from the airport to Magnolia Cafe and he began asking me questions about being blackballed from performing. The more I told him, the more outraged and dumbfounded he became, which was a little shocking to me because I had no idea he would become so outraged and care so much, always seeing the larger philosophical implications of everything. He actually cared more about me than I did, and pointed out that the jewish ethnic activists were doing a lot more than just harassing me, they are actually terrorizing the entire community by threatening everyone, forbidding them from hiring me, talking to me, or even being my FB friend. This changed my whole perception of things, and made me angry too. I didn’t think it was such a big deal when I though they were bothering only me, but when I realized they are holding the entire town hostage, I had to agree that this behavior is unacceptable. Gilad seemed most upset that another jazz artist was silenced, and and reminded me that this kind of suppression of free speech is a crime against humanity. It can be hard to see the full significance of something you are at the center of. Luckily, jazz players are ready for anything, so he was unfazed to learn that even the drummer and bass player I had lined up to play with us had backed out two days before the performance, saying there was “too much negativity surrounding the event,” and I had to agree with them, except that the source of the negativity was not me. I have played hundreds of duo gigs, and am actually quite fond of the configuration, even though it is much more work to play all the bass lines, provide groove, rhythmic interest, harmonic color, and to provide the melodicist with responses while he is stopping to take a breath between phrases, all the while trying not to clash of get in the way. It sounds more complicated than it is, though. Your ear tells you what to play, and it really doesn’t require as much thought after awhile.
I took Gilad to stay at my parent’s house up the road since I had no room at my house. My dad made up a lame excuse why we could not get on the internet, the real reason being he is afraid the DHS will harass him. I told my folks that I wanted them to come to hear the concert/presentation and my dad say he didn’t like to go downtown. The gig was not downtown, it was on the University of Texas campus, and he had no problem going to see me play there or anywhere else when I was playing with Ruby Jane, who used to be the apple of his eye before she fired me. In fact, my 4 year stint with her was the only time my dad ever cared about my music. I chalk it up to the fact that people worship celebrities, and Ruby is a local celebrity because she is very young and was on the road with Willie Nelson’s band when she was just 13. My dad on several occasions drove to other states to watch us play. He drove 6 hours to our performance at Lollapalooza in Chicago a couple of years ago, and was so proud of me that he cried like a baby for 30 minutes when we finished our set. But when it comes to a ten minute drive to hear me play with Gilad Atzmon, it was totally out of the question. He waited for Gilad to go into the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day, and nervously whispered to me to make sure that no one followed our vehicle back to his house after our show. It’s hard for me to imagine someone feeling that level of paranoia and fear, and to be honest, I find it kind of pathetic that we let jews intimidate and terrorize us to that extent.
Since we were not allowed to use the internet at my folks’, we went back to my house because we had to do an interview for Mark Glenn’s “The Ugly Truth.” Sitting next to Gilad during the live interview, hearing him angrily unleash on my persecutors in Austin, watching him emphasize his syllables with his clenched fist, hearing the power of his voice and of his unassailable logic is something I will never forget, similar to listening to John Coltrane’s passionate, searching saxophone wailing away. Mark Glenn is equally great, full of wisdom and insight and always nailing the bull’s-eye, often long before anyone else can even see the target. It was awesome to be involved in such a conversation, and much of it was about how what has been going on in Austin and San Antonio is a very positive indicator that something is about to give. Is humanity’s immune system starting to really kick in?
We arrived in Houston early on the day of the second show. It was amazing to finally meet in person and spend the afternoon that day with our friend and event organizer, Robert Graham, and his brother Greg. We had spoken often in the previous months, comparing notes and sharing laughs regarding the jewish-instigated harassment we experienced, and giving inspirational pep talks to each other when the jews were trying their best to make things complicated for us. We were given a tour of Robert’s art studio, which was full of beautiful, thought-inspiring pieces. He then served us a healthy lunch of apples, tomato slices, avocado, cheese, bread, with ice coffee, and we chatted happily all afternoon outside at a picnic table underneath an umbrella. Gilad entertained us with jokes, anecdotes, and tactical strategies while we all played with Robert’s loveable, rambunctious dog Molly.
Both musical performances and presentations went very well and were much appreciated by the audiences. Gilad’s musicianship is astonishing. His notes are all bursting with energy and life, and truly he belongs in the gallery of the immortal greats of jazz history. I was relieved that the music sounded good, since I had been a little nervous about playing as I have not had the opportunity to play out much this last year. I was unsurprised to see that nobody came to protest, even after Craig Berlin did everything in his power to try to organize some kind of hoop-la. Not one protester! It was almost too perfect that when we pulled up early for load-in at Ovations Night Club in Houston, the fanatical zionist Adam Zeger (son of my infamous jewish former landlord) who had inadvertently helped wake me up a few years ago, was standing near the entrance to the club, wearing an Israeli Defense Force t-shirt and holding a skateboard, having gained about 30 pounds of pure doughy, white fat since I last saw him three years ago. But he was not protesting. He was just looking sad, like he wanted to cry, surely thinking I would make fun of him for gaining weight and being jewish. But that would have been nothing but his over-active, morbid imagination getting the best of him.
I shook his hand, hugged him, commended him for having the courage to show up and represent his people, and jovially congratulated him on his new wife and child. He made a little crack about our concert being a “Nazi rally,” but mainly we just chatted with Gilad for about a minute. Just at that moment, it began to rain hard, as it does often and without much warning in Houston, and Gilad and I headed for the door to avoid being soaked to the bone before our concert. I learned that Gilad, who had gotten to the club moments before me, saw Adam standing there in his IDF t-shirt, and and asked him if he had been a member, to which Adam replied, “No,” and then Gilad said, “Oh. I was,” and you can imagine to where the conversation went from there. How fitting was it that Gilad got to meet my old friend/nemesis Adam, whose family’s attempted indoctrination of me backfired badly, alerting me to the danger of jewish power, and setting me in motion as an opponent of their ideology? Anyway, I was happy to see Adam and was looking forward to finishing our conversation and inviting him to listen to the show, but when I came back outside about a minute later to load-in my gear, he was already long gone, presumably riding his skateboard home in the downpour. Sad, dumpy and defeated. Perhaps his bitter zionist tears were mixing with the raindrops, and now his beloved IDF shirt was soaked, revealing his new fat rolls and man-boobs in even more stark detail. It’s making me sad to think about right now actually, so I will move on.
I was amazed at how well Gilad’s spoken word message was received, no hecklers, not one. The huge backpack that Gilad had arrived with was now practically empty because nearly everyone who attended apparently wanted the answer to “who are the Jews?” provided in his book “The Wandering Who?,” which is sure to be a problem for the jews as long as there ARE jews. It’s quite a legacy Gilad is leaving them.
My report would be lacking if I did not include that fact that both venue owners, Harlan at Brave New Books in Austin, and Frank at Ovations in Houston, were the heroes of the day, since they did not cave in to the many “concerned individuals” who called them to voice whatever concerns that they were concerned with. Frank told me that among other complaints, that he received three phone calls from the Anti-Defamation League, saying that they were not happy at all that he was having us play at his club. He said he knew they were real ADL representatives because they left their names and numbers. I shook Franks’s hand heartily and thanked him, and he said with a big smile “Come back and play any time.” I am pleased that there are people who are not falling for their tactics anymore, and that there are people with backbones in this would who are not afraid to push back, telling our enemies, “Up yours, this far” and flashing la quenelle a la Dieudonne. The jews had tried and failed in both cases to prevent the tireless humanist crusader Gilad Atzmon, both from playing brilliantly for people on his alto saxophone, and from delivering his very important message about jewish power, to the public. I hope Gilad had as much fun as I did, and that he is on the plane to Heathrow, listening to jazz on his headphones, writing his next book on his laptop, reflecting with satisfaction on this American tour, and planning his next move.
I thank him for helping me with my troubles in Austin, and it is safe to say he will be blogging and writing and publishing articles in various outlets exposing how Craig Berlin and his gaggle of vile, fanatical jewish supremacist mafioso’s are terrorizing not just me, but the entire arts community worldwide, nay, they whole of humanity, intimidating, threatening and viciously attacking people who tell the truth or maybe just ask questions.
One day, after the NWO apparatus has come crashing down, we will tell our children and they will tell their children the story of how persons like a comedian named Dieudonné M’bala M’bala and a jazz saxophonist named Gilad Atzmon started the revolution.
Both concerts and both presentations were professionally video-recorded in full, from different angles, and will be posted in a couple of days after they have been edited and titles have been added, etc. Thanks for all your support and thanks for reading. Don’t give up the fight, we are winning!
Quenelles, brothers and sisters!