When my brother and I were eleven and twelve we made French fries using a machine that was older than the one above. It was very dangerous. There were two sets of slicers consisting of two cutters that came down at a interval. We stood on a catwalk and emptied a hundred pound sack into a large barrel that tumbled the spuds against abrasive side that took the skin off. We then emptied to potatoes on to a conveyor belt, and took the eyes out with a knife. We pushed a button and a conveyor belt dumped the spuds in a wash. Pushing another button, a screen rose out of the water and tipped the spuds into a holding area where we fished them out. The we put them on the cutters. The machine was about twenty-five feet long. We stood on old planks. This is right out of the Victorian Age.
We first went to work for Victor when we were seven and eight. We drove around in a 1939 Plymouth like the one above. We were Bald Tire Spotters. We started out new job with the typical insults and put-downs. Vic did not want us to use one hand. he wanted us to use two hands, and he showed us how it was done. While one hand is putting the spud on the cutter, the other is reaching for a new spud. The cutters are slamming down. We struggle to get the cadence right. We feel our father’s fear, not for us, but for his whole life that is going wrong. Sure he does not want to lose his fingers.
“Dont lose a finger! And don’t tell your mother you’re doing this or she will go crazy. You know how she is.”
When we first went to work for Victor William, he got us away from our mother and said things like;
“No sucking on your mother’s tit. She’s not here to protect you. If you are going to live in my house, you are going to have to work. There is not free lunch.”
Mark and I peeked at one another to see if the other was afraid, afraid of the psycho who had basically kidnapped up and put us in a large empty warehouse with ‘The French Beast’. I had not read ‘Les Mislabels’ or Dickens. I knew what we were doing was illegal. My brother did too. We dare not verbalize this, because it would leave some residue, that would tell Captain Victim we were conspiring against him. We figured The Beast ha been shut down after a poor grownup lost some fingers. This was another illegal operation. Vic needed a product to sell. Our French fries looked just like the ones in the video.
Here is a pic of Bill Cornwell who my daughter and mother introduced into my life, and my family. Bill is not able to conceive a child which wrecks havoc with his image as a Wild and Crazy He Dude! He poses with other men’s babies. He wanted my grandchild all to himself. Heather, Patrice, and Linda Comstock were all for this because they got caught going behind my back to see what they can get from Aunt Vicki, my late sister who did This will be my first Christmas with any of my sister’s in the world. I have a brother, but, he may be dead too. I may be The Last Presco Standing.
When Bill Cornwall and his father saw photos of me on facebook dressed up like Santa Cause at the secnd OCCUPY Eugene, they could not believe their good fortune. Alas Bill’s Dad would be a grandfather – a full grandarents with me out of the way. This is a Tea Party leader who hates hippies and OCCUPY. There would be no problem ruling me a lunatic, not fit to be a family member.
Bill saw himself as a Big Bad Dirt Racer Dude, who could take me. He made plans to bully me before we met. Heather Hanson and mother, signed off on them. So did aunt Linda. When Vicki and I walked through the Vegas airport looking for Heather, we spotted her with Bill who was straining to get a peek at me.
“What does that look tell you?” I asked my sister. who chuckled. She had seen Mark and I having one of our famous fist-fights.
“He’s wondering if he can take me!” Vicki laughed. She had seen her brothers go crazy on one another. At Oakland High, no one fucked with us. We were very strong. We had worked in our father’s produce market. Here he tried to break our will – even kill us! He found no quit in us. He failed. When he put us on The Spud Monster, he thoght for sure we would quit and start crying. Then he would have something to really humiliate us about.
Vicki like walking and being with her brothers. It is a huge mistake that we were not by her side when she died. Who is to blame?
Here is a pic of the Volkswagon Van Vic owned. His truck broke down and he bought this rafe vehicle, new. I thought it was great. Mark and I could load it without climbing on the bed.
VW is Victor William. He and Bill share the same birthday. They are Leos. On Christmas morning of 1969 William came home from the black whore house next door. I reminded his mother is expecting us. I did the driving. We stopped at a all night nudie bar and watched the pole dancing. VW needed to tank up. When we got back on Highway 50, VW says;
“I think we are friends. Why don’t you call me Bill, like my good friends do.”
“Sure Billy. That works for me!”
I almost abandoned Psycho Billy Cornwell on Route 66. I almost called my daughter and grandson, to get in the car. Tyler had to throw up because Billy was driving like a mad man. We could not see the road from the back seat. I was feeling nauseous. As this six year old boy throws up, Billy turns to me;
“You know he’s just faking it to get his mother’ attention. I am trying to break him of this defect.”
I will be inserting dream sequences of me feeding Billy into a rusty French fry maker in a dark warehouse. I will borrow from Stephen King.
“Don’t go into the potato field.”
Come back for more…abuse! Play videos at same time.
Like Vinnie ‘the chin”Gigante, Vic ‘six bucks’ spent allot time in a bathrobe. Vic fashioned himself as the ‘singing Don’ he a member of the Barbershop Quartet. Above we see ‘the crooner’ breaking out in song in the morn after a all-niter. When it came time to close the Kerry House, where I met Patrice Hanson, Vic & Son got to stay till sunup. I drank with my father, and called him Bill while in a nudie bar out on the highway. We were on our way to grandma’s for X-Mas. William was pop’s middle name.
When any of Vic’schildren would stop by, he would ceremoniously hand us a real estate paper and a stack of post cards. We must work before we play. We went to work on looking for folks who had defaulted on their home loan. We would write their address on the post card that introduced these desperate people to Captain Vic, Loan Hero. We did not speak while we worked, lest we make a mistake, or waste precious seconds. Vic expected allot bang for his bucks, he never able to get over his capitalist vision he had when he put his sons to work at Acme Produce. Free Labor was the way. Vic told me he wished he was born during the height of the Roman Empire. When I recognized I had a Christ complex, I began to wonder.
I can’t speak for my other siblings, but, I never got paid. What I got was a perk instead. I might get a bowl of squid soup, or, a big salami sandwich. Vic took me to lunch at the real estate guy bars. I might get an item of clothing, or, a new-scent for my car. When I saw the new house in Lafayette, Vic demonstrated his up-graded perk system. Near the end of the work day, Vic broke the silence;
“Who wants to go shopping?”
Spoke Vic’s three little help-meets, and out the door they run with the credit cards Vic tossed atthem – like candy! Two hours later they came home like hunters from the hunt, and began to hold up their new dresses for the Master Boss Man to see;
“Oh, that’s pa retty one. Turn around and let me see it from the back!” said their captain who wore a black eye patch a year earlier after crazy Dee-Dee knocked his out out with a four pound ashtray.
“Duck Captain Victim – INCOMING!”
Above it the new edition to the Lafayette home that Vic built for Connie and her eight children. Vic was trying to get his new bride into the United States, and her children. Connie and her children were citizens of Mexico. Having married Connie when she was smuggled across the border in a marijuana shipment, it looked like getting Vic’s new family into the new digs, was not going to pan out. I took a photo of Connie’s Folly because Vic’s real children never got such a huge perk, and that was because we were never really loyal to our captain. No one lived in that house. According to Roseamry, Vic would steal our dental appointments she paid for after she was forced to go get a real job, get off the bad movie lot where we were slaves to the Star.
We clever Presco children faked our loyalty so we could cash&prizes out of the good captain. We were not the salt of the earth, as basic and asloiving as Mexican people, who love each other naturally. It’s inbred in them.
When I was eleven I bought my father a new fishing knife. Being quite the worker, I got jobs watering lawns, running errands for the elderly, and weeding. It was Vic’s birthday, August 12. I asked my father to come out on the front porch with me. I handed him the knife. There was silence as he looked at it. The he spoke;
“You didn’t buy this knife for me. You bought it for yourself. Here. You keep it!”
I fought back the tears as he turned and went back in the house. I struggled to understand what had happened. My father had accused me of having a hidden agenda, and I wondered if this was true. Then it came to me, a voice form heaven.
“There is nothing dark about trying to purchase your freedom! Your father wants you to be ownen to him till the day he die!”
I now knew my father was psychotic, severely mentally ill. Not one dare say this about him, or title him a parasite, even when he got convicted of Loan Sharming in in 1994. In 1991 I got a glimpse of the Mortgage Meltdown, the coming Doom! I was seen as the boy who cried wolf. I posted the fallowing six years ago.
“The child plays”
After Ms. Pierrot bought the Rosamond estate on February 15,1996, she
put out a website for Rosamond Publishing, in which the ghost writer
she hired, claimed Christine did not “hasten her death as many around
her feared she would.” Back to this paper I found yesterday, as if
the ghost of James Coakly had led me to it. On September 19, 1996
Attorney Lawrence J. Chazen via his attorney filed a claim against my
late sister’s estate for $59,100 dollars. He did this 2 1/2 years
after Christine’s death, and seven months after Ms.Pierrot bought the
estate of $75,000 dollars. Why didn’t Mr.Chazen file sooner, after
all, he had tried to become the special executor, after Garth’s
attorney got another attorney dismissed by Judge Silver. To quote
from testimony of proceedings of June 3,1994; “Ms. Beare again
expressed her opinion to me that Ms. Winterhalter was not qualified
or bondable and that San Francisco Attorney Lawrence J. Chazen should
serve. Mr.Chazen had appeared before Judge Silver with Ms.Beare at
the June 3 1994 hearing and attempted to be appointed. Over the
specific argument of Ms. Beare, Judge Silver refused to appoint Mr.
Chazen. Neither Ms. Beare nor Mr.Chazen disclosed to the court the
very critical fact that Mr.Chazen has the largest single creditor’s
claim against the estate and is a former business partner and
business associate of Garth Benton who the court had removed as
Special Administrator just moments before.” By, Larry was hasty then!
I asked my father, when he was alive, where he met Lawrence Chazen.
He said he met him at the Copper Penny in Walnut Creek that was a
hang-out for real-estate Brokers. In California, if you had a real-
estate Liscence, you could make mortgage loans. In May of 94, Vic was
convicted of loan sharking, he and another real-estate guy taking a
woman’s home from her. My cousin
Bill Broderick helped Vic with this case, he a Attorney.My mother had
been an executive secretary for Caldwell Bankers, and knowing she was
brilliant, and loved a intriguing tale, I lay this one on her. “Do
you recall the Movie ‘Paint Your Wagon’ where Clint Eastwood is
underneath the saloons and gambling houses scooping up the gold dust
that has fallen between the cracks during a Gold Boom. Suppose you
found a way of doing this in the California Real-estate Boom, that
is, as the price of real-estate went through the roof, and thus the
number of defaults, if you could manipulate these defaults, then you
would be a rich man. Mother, I think Vic invented the Savings and
Loan Rip-off scam – by default!” I went on to explain my theory. “If
a lender approached free-lance real-estate guys that were popping up
all over the Golden State, and set them up to make default loans for
you, then, if you had enough of these guys, the Feds would not know
who much real-estate was involved. When these default loans failed,
they go up for auction. If you knew when this was going to happen,
like gold dust falling through the cracks, and you bought these
houses you held a secret mortgage on through small-timers you made
privte loans to, then this is Big Time loan sharking – involving
millions of dollars! One is in affect, acquiring much valuable real-
estate, for a song.” After I gave same names of Vic’s business
associates, and told her one of them was known to haunt default real-
estate auctions, my mother gagged on her Vodka. “Jesus Christ Greg.
These are bad men. Stay away from them they will kill you. Your own
father will kill you! Bob Woodard took our house in Concord.” Tom
McKinny, was dismissed for inproprieties, he the President of
TransAmerican Title, a Savings and Loan business headquartered in the
TransAmerican pyramid building in San Francisco. He was a member of
Vic’s gang when they attended Oakland high school together. In April
of 97, my Detective friend sent me an article from the San Francisco
Examiner (4-20-97) he found on page three. It reads; “Broker defends
loan to widow, by Anastasia Hendrix. The lender and loan broker
embroiled in controversy over the threatened eviction of a 78 year-
old Oakland widow denounced unscrupulous lending practices, but
insisted there was none in this case. In seperate interviews, broker
Charles H. Oliver Jr. and San Francisco investor Lawrence Chazen,
angrily objected to the cross-fire of publicity and politics.” This
article went on to say; “The Olivers are outraged that the U.S.
Department of Housing and Urban Development officials publicly said,
before investigating, that they believed Aiken’s case was an example
of predeotry lending practices.” Mark and I attended Oakland High
School with Mattie Aiken’s grandchildren. Before I lost touch with
Shannon over eight years ago, she said this to me at then end of our
phone call, after I and my detective friend assured her we were on
her side; “Be careful Greg. My friends think my life is in danger.
The first thing they’re going to do is make you out to be insane.”
I was surprised to hear Bill Cornwell on the phone. Alas, did he give me a call in order to fess-up, take responsibility for the huge pee-stain on the back seat of the car Vicki rented – that he was driving when someone had a bad accident? Fat friggen chance!What I hear is Bill telling me he is a traditional kind of guy, full of family traditions, or, whatever! After saying; “You are about to lose you daughter and grandchild.” Bill got down to family business.
“Heather and I want to go into business together – run a Bar & Grill.”
“Daddy’s home!” was my first thought, because this was my father’s Narccistic approach to being a family man, a married man with four children – who along with his wife – competed with him for precious narcissistic material – that he was extremely stingy with. To get around the idea of being loving and giving, Big Capitan Vic made his wife and her children, his employees. We all began to work for Big Boss Man who gave us orders instead of love. And as for being paid in a normal fashion, he put us on his famous Perk System which meant he got to look over our shoulder in a very disapproving manner, we never quite able to do anything right, we never able to please him, we forever owing him.
Narcistic Monsters are alway unhappy with those close to them, and enrich their vision of themselves at the expense of others. Being the Boss, and not the Father, was perfect. We were forever Lesser-then. We never delivered Big Vic a good days work. We always came up a dollar short. His real perk was his Bad Dog mirror he held up when we asked for something, dare complain to him he is not being fair. When alas we got a perk, we trembled inside, for this meant we really owed him, and he would be that much more displeased. Would we ever get out of debt?
When Vic looked in the mirror, with pleasure, he asked;
“Mirror mirror on the wall. who’s the fairest boss of them all?”
When Vic NEVER got the answer he was looking for he went to the local Bar & Grill, got drunk, then told total strangers how ungrateful his wife and brats were, how, disloyal!
Bill Cornwell was born on Vic’s birthday. They are both Leos. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut as he told me how it was going to be in his family, now. Dina Eastwood did not understand the Tylor shields would split up her family and take all her children from her, if he could get away with it. She should have kept her mouth shut, let Tyler walk all over her, tell her what to do, and be the Big Boss of her family. After laying into the Narcsitic Monster, she now had terrible regrets, she fearing wshe would lose Francesca.
I interupt Bill’s business prattle, and asked him to explain in more detail the reason he thinks I am going to lose my daughter and grandson.
“It is all those calls you make. I was there when you called her at the racetrack. She was shaking. You traumatized her. I am not too happy with you for doing that.”
“Bill. Heather is my Trustee. You know that. You know we have to communicate. I was trying to get hold of her for three days concerning an important matter. And as for you being a traditional kind of guy, are you going to propose to my daughter. I heard rumors you might do so.”
Bill got very defensive when I put it to him, examined him, the father of beauty woman he is screwing out of wedlock.
“How can you call yourself a traditional man when you are insulting the father of the woman you claim you love! How dare you threatened me with the loss of grandson!”
“You’re a parasite!” Bill proudly declared, he waiting five months to lay this on me after Heather told him I am on SSI.
“Why did you tell this man you only knew two months about my finances?” I asked my daughter.
“Because we love each other. We tell each other everything.” my daughter replied.
Imagine what Dina or Clint eastwood would do if they caught Francesca showing Tyler their bank accounts. I think Tyler could then brag about how he got his nose broken – nineteen times! for Clint would reset his broken nose – so he too could break it again! All in the family!
“Bill has put me in charge of getting sponsors for his race car!” Bill’s employee told me. Why wouldn’t Bill start looking in Heather’s family for some sucker to write him a big check? When he found out I had no money, but what monies the government gave me, I went on his Big Boss list of assets and deficits. What list did Linda Comstock make?
When my uncle Vinnie left eight of kindred nearly a half million dollars, I asked my attorney if I could give it all to my daughter, who was having trouble making ends meet. She had not yet met Bill, and asked if I would move to Santa Rosa and help her take care of Tyler – especially when he got sick and Heather lost a pay day when she had to stay home with my grandson. I bought a truck to make that move, because I could not legally give her Trust money. I was already paying for her cable out of my SSI money, and then sent her Quisnos gift certificates after she said she had no money for lunch. I told my attorney I was paying Heather Hanson $20 dollars an hour to handle my trust. They thought it was too high.
When I talked to my daughter about Bill calling me a parasite, and, if she was of the same opinion, she said;
“You are a parasite, Dad. You take money from the government.”
I did not remind my daughter that I also get Medicare, and if I did not, I would not be alive. Not once did my daughter call me and ask how my treatment for prostate cancer was going. However, she did send me a bill for the Big Bother I brought to her and Bill’s door.
Yesterday, Bill and His Bad Boys, who are always looking to look down on someone in order to appear that more powerful, lost their battle with the legally elected President of the United Sates over healthcare. The supreme Court of the United States did not see things Bill and Heather’s way, and, have made Obamacare the Law of the Land.
Here ya go, Bill! This birds for you!
Bill is the kind of dude who would spit in a blind man’s cup, and knock a hungry begger into the gutter. I believe this is a Narcsitic trait, not unlike Uncle Scrooge Duck. They do this because beggers remind them that it is better to give then recieve, and, beggers are a mirror that reveal their inner self, a insecure creature forrever begging for attention, and never getting enough.There is real compititon here. Bill thought my daughter was working for me, not understanding that it is tradtional for a member of ones family to be a Trustee. Bill wanted me to lose Trust for my daughter, so she could come work for him – full time!
When I pressed Heather about not finding any time to be my Trustee, yet, she works one day cleaning her borther’s home for twenty dollars an hour, she tried to change the sublect. A month before I met Bill, Heather told me her lover is very angry with his crippled mother, he calling her a parasite because she in on SSI. Bill was livid, he going out of his way to ignore her, come help her with things she could not do in a wheelchair. In Bill’s mind, she was being sick just to get attention. I have no doubt Bill bid my daughter to ignore my calls, and stop being my Trustee, and, what about those sponsors? Has Heather found any?
Bill Cornwell kicked his crippled mother to the curb! I’m sure she has thrown this paraiste the bird!
I laugh in your face, Bill Cornwell, when it come time to pay your taxes! You do pay taxes? How do you like to be examined?
14th 11:55am-1:40am 1hr 45min paying bills
15th 10am-10:15 am 15min discussing trust w/ dad
20th 12:30am-1pm 30min call w/bank reg. trust
8:45pm-9:30pm 30min discussion w/ dad reg. trust
21st 12:30-1pm 30min reading emails, speaking w/ Kiffany
23rd 12pm-12:45pm 45min Correcting transactions w/ Betty
28th 1:30pm-2pm 30min reading letters from Kiffany
6:50-8:50pm 2hrs discussing truck w/ dad balancing acct.
1st 12:32-1:08pm 35min discussing trsut w/ Dad, Comcast and Att bills
2:30-3:05 set up 35min set up auto pay
6th 1-1:50pm 50min reading emails, calling bank, purcasing toothbrush, discussing trust w/ dad
9th 7:30am-12pm 4hrs 30min purchasing everything from “dads needs list
Total 13.75 hours at
$20 per hour $275
The symptoms of Narcissistic personality disorder can be similar to the traits of individuals with strong self-esteem and confidence; differentiation occurs when the underlying psychological structures of these traits are considered pathological. Narcissists have such an elevated sense of self-worth that they value themselves as inherently better than others. Yet, they have a fragile self-esteem and cannot handle criticism, and will often try to compensate for this inner fragility by belittling or disparaging others in an attempt to validate their own self-worth. It is this sadistic tendency that is characteristic of narcissism as opposed to other psychological conditions affecting level of self-worth. 
Linda Comstock How close are you to Vegas now?
19 hours ago • LikeUnlike
I’m in bullhead city its hotter then africa I’m still recovering from vegas were bout to cross the colorado river to laughlin hit up a casino chill by the pool with some drinks and a beautiful girl. Its a rough life but somones gotta do it
June 14 at 12:42pm via Mobile Web •LikeUnlike •
5 people like this.
Jessica Young McCrary awww. how fun!!!
June 14 at 1:15pm • LikeUnlike
Judy Hansen Hope you guys are having a lot of fun. Stay cool and have a nice little cocktail for me. Make it a margarita, poolside.
June 14 at 11:46pm • LikeUnlike
Debra Valencia Oh you lucky duck!
June 15 at 1:21am • LikeUnlike
Vicki told me Mark Presco disowned his son, Cean Presco, because he married a Filipino, who born him two sons he refuses to acknowledge, or behold.“I refuse to be the grandfather of mud people.”
Vic Presco was a neo-Nazi and a Racist, who named his first born after the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Captain Vic told me he wished he was born during the height of the Roman Slave Empire. He admitted he did not love Rosemary when he married her.
“Why then did you marry her?” I asked.
“She had good secretary skills. I wanted to found a family business.”
“Is this why you had so many children?”
When Bill Cornwell and my daughter called me a “parasite” I began to suspect he was a racist. The photo of him throwing the bird surrounded by his tough guys, suggests Bill does not like illegal aliens. The Mexican population in Santa Rosa is exploding. Bill and his father no doubt blame the liberal Democrats. The Cornwells have their roots in Vallejo.
Hitler, the greatest Narccisist of all time, also admired the Roman Empire and modeled the Third Reich on an the Slave Masters that destroyed the temple in Jerusalem. Hitler kidnapped children and put them to work in Nazi slave camps. Mark asked me to include exerts of his racist rant in my buigraphy of a world famous artist.
Heather Hanson could care less about my family history and did not inform Bill I was going to Bullhead City in order to put our creative legacy back in our Family Tree. Bill was on vacation, and he having a good time was paramont to Heather. For being my Trustee for a year, and purchasing about ten items, my daughter charge me $955. When she threw me under the bus she made a case that I deserved it because I was insane – and a parasite.
To know my daughter left mmy camp and put herself and my grandson in the evil racist camp of Vic and Mark Presco, is the greatest disapointment of my life. Her lover’s racisim is child’s play compared to Victor and Marcus. The Narccisist, Emperor Caligula, put a naked statue of himself in the temple, in the Holy of Holies.
“Payment of Fees for Trustee Services. Heather paid herself $310.00 for her hours on June 14, 2011; $275.00 on July 11, 2011; $108.33 through end of July, 2011; $52.00 for August, September & October 2011; $40.00 January 2012; $170.00 February through May 2012. Total she received $955.33 for her management of the Trust. A log of her hours is included in the scanned and attached materials.”
First let me apologize in advance for the insults that will be heaped upon you all. The politically correct method we have been using is not solving the race problem. It is not my intention to denigrate anyone, but no effort will be made to spare anyone’s feelings, including white people.
I will depart from my usual method and write in the first person because it is a highly subjective story of a white man who has journeyed from being optimistic about race relations to an overt racist. This is because I have come to the inescapable conclusion that everyone is a racist and the only ones that seem to be made to feel guilty about this are white people. Well, no more.
Finally, I have concluded that there is no solution for the race problem at this time. We need a separation, a divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. I shall attempt prove this.
The Basic Dilemma
How do we treat people, as individuals or groups? I believe there is a basic difference between the thinking of white people and the other races on this issue. This will be discussed in detail in the next section.
Since this paper is on race the focus is, by definition, on groups. I will make sweeping generalizations about the various races. You will think up individual exceptions to them. This does not negate them. You need to put forth more correct generalizations.
I maintain that the culture a people create absolutely and totally reflects the content of the character of the people who create it. The differences between the races are far more than skin deep, and those differences are reflected in the cultures they create. I reject all of the politically correct reasons for these differences. It is not a matter of geographical luck, having the right plants, animals or other resources. The ridiculous theories of people like Jared Diamond don’t adequately explain how the cultures became different, and they absolutely don’t explain why so many cultures have remained more or less the same after hundreds of years of globalization.
So what we’re really talking about here is a clash of cultures, but since my theories about culture are race based, I am a racist. I make judgments about people in light of their culture.
White men, more than any race, including white women, are highly oriented toward individualism. This is why individual rights and freedoms, and democracies are more prevalent and successful in white cultures. But what makes white cultures work is individual responsibility. Every white man is expected to provide for himself and his family and can expect little help from any other white men. Those who cannot do this have no status in the white community. Oh sure, we work together to build roads and cities and the proverbial barn raisings that are clearly too big for one man to handle. But each white man is expected to create his own wealth.
Almost all other cultures are tribal in nature. By tribal I mean that they are basically extended families, and their economies are based on sharing. All members born into the tribe can expect his or her rightful place in the tribe and fair share of the tribal wealth. In a tribal culture a man gains status by sharing his wealth. The problem is, tribal cultures don’t create wealth. When you are expected to share your wealth you soon lose all incentive to create it.
In a white culture a man gains status by amassing wealth. Because he is expected to create his own wealth he gets to keep it. This provides incentive to create more wealth. This is the reason white cultures are so fabulously wealthy. Yes, Bill Gates got some flak for not doing more for charity but no one expects him to give away his billions. The wealthy people in white culture hold high status.
When Bill Cornwell called me up and told me I was truamatizing his lover, and, because I was a parasite I was on the verge of losing my family, I heard the captain down in my War Code Room, say with a grin;
“Uh oh! Daddys home!”
These are words I often applied to my brother, Mark, when he came home from a hard day at school. Once in the door, he was the Good Child, the Perfect Child, Mommies Little Helper – The Man of the House! The best thing that anyone did for Mark, was provide him with the Perfect Scapegoat when Rosemary born me, her second child. For gifting Mark with a whipping boy, Mark was expected to support Rosemary in her old age.
“Mark is exempt from work so he can study. He’s going to be electronic engineer someday and be a millionaire. However, just to be fair, Marks main task is to change all burned out lightbulbs. Stand up my Good Son and receive you honorary lightbulb changing oven mitten!
Now Greg, why are standing around glomming on to your brothers glory. Get in that kitchen and serve my Little Man his supper!”
“Yesum Ms. Presco!”
When Mark was sixteen he carved out a swastika and a Nazi giving a salute in his friends shop, and hung his Superman over his bed. Mark titled ma a parasite on society because I wanted to be an artist. We stopped eating at the table as a family after Vic was ousted from power, because he conducted Food Abuse. One day, I must write on this topic and appear on a talk show. Food Abuse did not end with King Victor.
One day as we sat watching T.V. eating the dinner I cooked, I tapped on my half-empty glass of milk.
“Execure me! I want to make a Family announcement! I am proud to say that this morning in home room, I stopped standing to salute the flag and pledge allegiance to the flag, because this is pure propaganda, and preparation for the Military. Because my ambition is to be what I am, an Artist and a Man of Peace, then I do not want ,nor do seek, anyone’s approval but my own! Thank you! Now return to the delicious meal I have prepared!”
“I’ve had it!” Mark growled; as he put his tray aside and rush towards me. Standing over me he is screaming till he is red in the face;
“Youre never going to make any money as an artist. No one makes any money as an artist, thus you are a parasite on society. You’ll never amount to anything. You are a leach! A LEACH!”
“You’re the leach. You don’t do shit around here. I want your lightbulb changer job. I want you to go into the kitchen and see if you can whip us up some desert for a change!”
Mark grabs my tray and heaves it to the floor, the glass of milk all the way empty now. I rise up with a right-cross to his jaw, and he throws a left. I throw a series of jabs, and he goes into his whirlwind attack, his head down, his arms spinning like a dervish. I looked for AN opening, AND WITH AN with an upper -cut – Down goes Fraser!
The reason why HBO or SHOWTIME should turn this blog into a Series, is it is the Genesis of cultural Warfare in America. The Presco are the Real McCoys.
When my daughter parroted Bill’S belief that I was a parasite, and thus must be removed from the New and Latest Family Order, I disowned her, put her out of my life, because it broke my heart to see this EXTREME ABUSE of the Family Scapegoat being championed by my own flesh and blood.
I told Heather as she read from the New Nazi Manifesto, that Bill sounds just like Mark.
“You should have Bill read Mark’s essays. Bill will say he has been cheated, by I being your father, and not Mark!”
To know that Mark 2 will have a strong influence on my grandson, is a real defeat, a reversal of all I have tried to do.
Above is a photo of Mark sticking his chest out – like a real man! My uncle Dick is egging him on! Dick lew over sixty bombing missions over Germany. There is a big scar on his chin and cheek when shrapnel flew into the cockpit. When Heather said I was that much more of parasite because I did not serve in the military, I asked;
“Did Bill serve?”
“No,but he wanted to. That’smore then what you wanted to do!”
Uncle Dick and Lillian believed Vic when he declared I was not his son. Marked, smirked when he herd the good news. Getting a job at eighteeen, he moved out, but, never returned with one bag of gorceries, nor did he take his mother to dinner – every! This is because we were a Tribal System, and a martiarchy.
Here is part of Mark’s essay that declares all races not white, as parasite, and pretty much declares all women, parasites. Now that Mark sees that he has like minded folks in the family again, he might come out of hiding and bounce Tyler on his knee – because the Real Family DAddy – is back!
Needless to say, I was the family Jew.
The Problem With The Women’s Movement
The Woman’s Movement is based on two entirely false premises. The first is that “Women have been oppressed and sexually exploited by Men”. This is just the opposite of what is really true. Women enjoy a privileged position in this society and have been making a living sexually exploiting Men for the last five million years. The second is that “Women want sexual equality”. This is the last thing Women want. It should be clear to even the most casual observer that Women have no intention of giving up a single privilege or prerogative or being Female, nor have they. All traditional Female privileges and prerogatives are intact and Women have no intention of giving them up no matter how much they screech about sexual equality out of the other side of Their face. The Women’s Movement has degenerated into a group of spoiled rotten Females demanding to be even more spoiled rotten than they already are.
What do Women want? This can be defined by be phrase coined by the Women’s Movement, “Having it all”, and can be taken literally. Women want all the privileges and prerogatives of both sexes; and the duties, responsibilities and disadvantages of neither. The first thing the Women’s Movement did was disavow all traditional Female responsibilities. Women no longer are required to cook, sew, clean house or be responsible for any of the duties traditionally assigned to Women. Currently there are no obligations that Women feel bound to perform, especially the ones traditionally undertaken by Men. Men, on the other hand, have not shirked any of Their traditional responsibilities; including protecting, defending and providing for Women and Their Children.
6. And above all, white people do not have to tolerate becoming minorities our own countries and cultures as the non-achieving races of the world decide that the only chance they have of attaining a better quality of life is to elbow their way into white cultures, dump themselves on white people and demand that white people provide them a quality of life they cannot provide themselves in their own countries and cultures.
Most white people will think I am cold and heartless. They feel guilty that they have so much and so many others have so little. They want to help alleviate the suffering of the poor people of the world. But I warn you, you can only help them help themselves, and if they cannot do it for themselves there is little you can do. If you continue to subsidize the population explosion of these non-achieving races they will turn your culture into their culture and you will watch your children suffer the same low quality of life as theirs.
The most important thing you can do for them now is to stop the population explosion of these “poor” people. The sheer numbers are keeping them poor and “enslaving” them as cheap labor.
t should be clear by now that black Americans enjoy a much higher quality of life than they have earned. But they still see themselves as victims because they are not provided with economic parity to white people and they hate us for it. This is irrational because white people don’t do this for each other as explained above. Statistically there are twice as many poor white people than black people, but these poor whites don’t seem to get the same attention.
I will now make the case that black people are the real victimizers in this country. I will use negative racial stereotypes which if not entirely accurate reflect the way black people are perceived in this country.
The first victims of black people are their own children. Blacks have a higher birthrate than whites, 70% of their children are born to unwed mothers and get little help from their fathers. There is a very high infant mortality rate. They know these children are going to grow up in the mean streets of the black communities. They don’t care because I believe too many of them try to use their children to retire on the welfare system. If they want a raise they drop another one. These children are raised to believe they are victims of white oppressors.