I concluded last week by celebrating in advance the pending performance by Daniil Trifonov of what aficionados affectionately call the Rach 3: Rachmaninoff's 3rd Piano Concerto. The next night I tuned in to the live broadcast of that performance on Radio New Zealand Concert. “Stunning” is a cliche I would normally avoid, but that's what this was. I have countless recordings of this concerto by the very best, including Rachmaninoff himself, and this was right up there. “Literally” is a cliche too, but I was literally stunned. The precision, the passion, the intelligence – it was almost too much. If I weren't already lying down I would have had to lie down. I wanted to say, in a nice way, WTF?!

Was this real?!

Confirmation that I hadn't imagined it came on Monday when I saw the following headline on Stuff … tttt: “Superstar Russian Pianist Daniil Trifonov Dazzles with NZSO.” Reviewer Max Rashbrooke writing:

“Undoubtedly  the star of the show was Trifonov, the young pianist arriving on stage looking rather like a Russian mystic. And there was something quasi devotional about his still and velvety touch in the concerto’s famous opening lines. This was Rachmaninov reimagined as a meditative, contemplative, inner-voice experience, Trifonov almost seeming to huddle himself around the notes.”

Then:

“Trifonov continued to delight, the low notes rich and burnished, the higher passages full of flickering grace, and the construction of his sound-world utterly convincing. This carried on into the coruscating final movement, Trifonov occasionally glancing to the heavens as if seeking divine inspiration while playing – ironically – with an almost devilish energy. His unruffled technique, finely gradated tonal colour and vast emotional range produced a performance that held the audience spellbound. A standing ovation, and two encores, sealed an unforgettable night.”

That's longhand for: “left the audience saying, WTF?!” Daniil Trifonov – genius, hero.

What a come-down, then, to be returned to the world of politics, from a towering hero to the vertical slime that in New Zealand is Hard Labour, the Islamic Shoplifters' Party of Aotearoa, aka the Bussy Galore Party of Aotearoa, and Te Paaaaaarty Apaaaaaartheid, and in America the Dirty Dems.

The Dirty Dems have been having their own WTF moments – not in a nice way – over – who else – Orange Man Bad-Ass. They are freaking out over his perfect physical and that he once again aced the cognitive test that Beijing Biden the Bribed Bastard refused to take. They are freaking out that none of the assassination attempts thus far has succeeded. They are freaking out over his hero's welcome at the UFC event over the weekend. They are freaking out over inflation coming down and job numbers going up ALREADY. They have been freaking out over tariffs, throwing hissy fits over the very idea that countries imposing tariffs on American goods should have tariffs imposed on theirs. Listen to this unhinged Dem-Scum Congressman Steven Horsford – I'm sure you can imagine what name I would give him – haranguing Trade Representative Jamieson Greer.

WTF??!!

To paraphrase Peter Sellers, “WTF indeed, Sir?!”

Remarkably, one famous Trump Derangement Syndromer has just, seemingly, cured himself of his affliction.  Here's far-left comedian Bill Maher with his TDS on full display before the 2024 election talking to fellow-sufferer Jane Fonda about the prospect of a Trump win.

Now here's that same Bill Maher after having Dinner with President Trump a few nights ago.

Fascinating to hear Bill Maher say that he found Trump to be a good listener. That's rare. Good listening, though essential to good conversation, has, like good conversation, become a thing of the past. Woke Narcissists who are now ubiquitous in the public square don't listen, they just quack, and quack, and quack over. Whatever snippet of the other person's conversation they allow in, they immediately make about them. Everything is about them. And their precious feelings, uninformed by any moral compass. You end up with inexpressibly stupid bimbos such as this one, Taylor Lorenz, a social media influencer, literally – yes, literally – eulogising a murderer, someone who shot a man in the back in broad daylight, eulogising the murderer because he's handsome and famous and revolutionary. [Quacker alert: Quacking noises, I'm like, Oh my God, like Oh My God,]

Morally good? In what universe? WTF?!

The most instructive thing about Benjamin Bussy: he said he left his bussy posts up because he wanted to bring his authentic self to Parliament. An authentic self is exactly what he does not bring to Parliament. He is simply, like the rest of the Islamic Shoplifters' Party of Aotearoa, a cascade of cliches, preening, posturing and posing for attention. Not an authentic self in sight. Serious thought should be given to how to stop such psychos getting into Parliament, where people who know nothing about life get to run our lives if we're not eternally vigilant. The list system, allowing such deformities to sneak in with no public scrutiny, is an obvious problem. Raising the age of eligibility for Parliament to 35 would help weed out grifters, Narcissists, powerlusters and psychopaths, as would making the profession unpaid, so that people would have to earn a living legitimately before trying to prevent others from doing so.

Such thoughts were uppermost in my mind when all current MPs except the ACT ones voted against David Seymour's Treaty Principles Bill. How on earth a measure that would simply reiterate that we all have the same rights, we're all equal before the laws which Parliament exists to enact on our behalf, a measure that would be overwhelmingly endorsed in the referendum it proposed, could be rejected by our purported representatives, to applause from the complicit so-called mainstream media whom nobody trusts anymore because they're captive to the vertical slime, was beyond me. WTF?! Quacker alert.

Enough of  the vertical slime. I repair to a home-grown towering hero by way of whom to wish you Happy Easter! Incidentally, if it were me being nailed to a cross with my father's acquiescence for something I didn't do, I would sure as hell be saying, Dad, WTF?!