I just won another game of chess on my video game. I made a brilliant and aggressive attack with my bishop. It startled me – and the minor computer? I moved the king off his thrown, and I traded queens in order to keep up this bishop attack – backed by a knight! We were in the backfield – even in the huddle of our opponent! But for one threatening move, we made thirty more moves for an astounding checkmate.
I use the term “we” because it has been suggested I am a “walk-in”. I have identified him as Berkeley Bill Bolagard whom inspired my science fiction novel ‘The Gideon Computer’. My friend Nancy suggested I author the history of the hippies in 1986 when I visited her at the Springfield Creamery that made her grandmother’s famous recipe for yogurt. No one could beat me at Monopoly when I was a child. I was lucky with the dice which bid my former wife, Mary Ann Tharaldsen to suggest I become a professional Backgammon player. She never saw someone throw so many boxcars. I would take up this moniker ‘Boxcar Willie’ when I went back to drinking, in bars.
It is only now that I wished I had bought a cheap chess set at Goodwill. I could have taught Rena Christensen how to play at our campground on the edge of Bullfrog Pond. I used to play the smartest kid in school for a month out of the summer. On day fifteen of our Days In Eden, Rena told me she was the smartest kid in all her schools, had been skipped a grade, and given a scholarship to the University of Nebraska. I will have to do a illustration of me playing chess with the most beautiful young woman in the world, while, our camp guru approaches to put his potato in our campfire. He was observing a week of silence and lived in a Buddhist commune in SF. I think he lied abut not being able to build a fire…so he could be in Rena’s presence until his potato was done. Then -he wanted to eat it with us, and then, he wanted to chat with my dish – using up all my art paper!
When Rena told me in her letter she had committed a million poems to memory, I was inspired to author my own Bond book. I am kin to Ian Fleming via Liz Taylor. How many advance moves could Rena commit to memory? That Buddhist sat meditating nearby under a tree, and was contemplating on how many advanced moves Krishna, would allow him to make on my chic – without losing his place in line – and being kicked out of the commune! Then he would be a mere beggar on the street!
I just watched the first Superbowl commercial and it was about a black boy and a Mazarati. I offer my Muse the Rosamond Brand, and she calls the cops on me because she couldn’t wait to prove to me and my readers how loyal she is to her Red-neck. That was a $20,000,000 dollar commercial. What do these guys got? Is this how they are going to save the white race – by being stupid?
It looks like they love the racist destiny the NPI has mapped out for them that is going nowhere, but to the same hell all those beautiful German boys went to when they fell in love with Adolph Hitler.
In this prophetic post, I accept the truth Rena does not want to live with this poor hippie on a hill – for fifteen years. But, if I was a Red-neck, and stupid as a box of hammers, then this Super Woman will kill for you, throw folks in jail for you, invade Russia for you.
“besides, she had already parked herself in a little tent atop a mount overlooking the town of Monte Rio – for forty five fucking days with a hippie who was not going anywhere in life, because wanting to be someone, is not cool.”
I was watching a car commercial and saw a Rena look-alike in it. ‘The Italians are coming’ is out of this post I made over two years ago.
Rena and I sat on our hillside watching the western sky turn into a rainbow, and then beheld the first stars appear in the thalo blue richness of the sky. This was to be our last night on our mountain before we descend to the land of mortals below.
I sat above her, and thus she used my legs and knees like a thrown, a leather bucket seat, her beautiful arms resting on me as I caressed her shoulders. A warm wind came up through the pines and oaks, and the strong smell of dry golden
grass was like a perfume that still lingers. This aroma is my solace, at knowing what she had in store, for herself, just herself.
This beautiful Midwest girl was born in the body of Ferrari, a Mazarati, in a little town in Nebraska, and for seventeen years she lived like a old crone in the home of her dear Grandmother. My God, she was in a walker at seven!
“Oh, Rena, do be careful! Watch out for those garden pebbles, They can trip you up! Now, let’s go watch the backward sprinkler till it gets dark.”
Before I came into her life, her plan was to take that beautiful Mazrati body to college – and conquer Lincoln – for starters!
Look out Lincoln, here come Rena Ferrari Maserati, Italian film goddess! Look for her to burn some rubber down your street on her way to the campus where there are a hundred good looking men in great bodies, they out of their mother’s
home, too, and there is no one to stop them, all that healthy stuff, the years they played on the swings and jungle gyms, coming down to this – College Mating Time!
If I was born in her body, there would be no way you could talk me into parking my Mazarati in that old barn in back of the Monastery, then go into the field and besides, she had already parked herself in a little tent atop a mount overlooking the town of Monte Rio – for forty five fucking days with a hippie who was not going anywhere in life, because wanting to be someone, is not cool.pick potatoes and radishes for the communal stew. No way! I mean, my God,
you’re a godly sex machine, the sexist car alive, and………
O.K. This is/was true! But Rena didn’t have to be anybody either, because she was so fucking beautiful. It just – grew on her!
Rena wanted to have a few more lovers, that will fine tune her cylinders, her moves, her love making technique, before she takes it out on the autobahn – and really opens up!
I was already in her dust, and, was trying to be fair, make it easier on both of us, by telling her;
“I would do the same thing, if I were you!”
“You would! “Oh thank you! Thank you for releasing me, and approving of everything I want to do!”
I love Rena like my own daughter. She never knew her father.
Of course I made this conversation up, because, when I pointed out the planet Pluto to her, I slapped an invisible ball and chain on her ankle while she was distracted.
“See that tiny little star at the very tip of that pine tree!
After I won last night, I got on my computer, because I realized I was two moves away form checkmating the entire Buck Family Legacy. I wrote a story for my newspaper, Royal Rosamond Press, and began to compose another article. When I awoke, my muse, my spirit, my walk-in….gave me the solution.
“Write about all you run-ins with people with BIG BUCKS. Turn it all into a novel!
Sydney Morris had to have talked to Robert Brevoort Buck about all the papers I filed. They attacked my integrity by suggesting I was trying to get money out of my dead sister my claiming in my book that Christine Rosamond Benton was murdered! It looks like ex-Senator, Leonard Buck murdered a business partner that might have been his lover as well. How ironic that while doing the history of the Buck family in Oakland, a dead file murder case surface! I mean, no one looked at this in years. It lay dead in two newspaper articles that were transcribed, but not published. This is a scoop for Royal Rosamond Press, a newspaper for poor Bohemian Artists who sometimes find themselves mingling with the very rich, whether as their patrons, or, when they apply for a grant.
The Getty foundation was began by my kin, J. Paul Getty. We are related through my cousin, Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, whose ex-husband married a Mellon. In considering applying for funding from the Buck Foundation, and Alcohol Justice, I had to come to this conclusion, that as a newspaperman – who owns a newspaper registered in Lane County – that I was labeled ‘Trouble’. For telling the truth, I have been attacked. In seeking facts about how my famous sister died, I was excommunicated by my brother who is a right-wing fascist, like the men who have sworn they would lay their life down for Donald Trump – who has gone to the Supreme Court and spent a million or more to have things go – his way! It is being reported by my peers, this guy with BIG BUCKS is destroying our Democracy, and the party co-founded by my kindred, John Fremont, who along with his wife, Jessie Benton, held a salon at Black Point in San Francisco. The Fremont’s almost came to own the really BIG BUCKS when they bought a silver mine.
Christine Rosamond Presco, and her brother, John Presco, grew up in poverty in Oakland California. Their father, Victor William Presco, descended from the Broderick, Janke, and Stuttmeister families who were San Francisco Pioneers. When Christine became the world famous artist known as ‘Rosamond’ people with money wanted to get next to her and have an influence. I was pushed aside. When my sixteen year old daughter came into my life, she did not explain fully the reason she wanted to own BIG BUCKS. Her aunt ( whom she called a ‘Gold Digger’) had married a banker-attorney who owned a big boat called ‘THE TOY’.
I was toyed with. This poor man who discovers he is a father, is just a pawn in their game. Heather Hanson and Linda Comstock were not looking for a REAL FATHER, but for a way to get money out of the creative and literary legacy that my sister left to her two daughters. Thanks to the legal travesty and injustice of the law firm of Robert Brevoort Buck, outsiders were sold this important legacy which was a cue for more outsiders to come – crack into the safe!
For destroying these two creative siblings, I raided Robert Buck’s history. It appears he is kin to Henry Brevoort who was a good friend of Washington Irving who was hired by John Astor to author a Manifest Destiny that was also promoted by my kin, Senator Thomas Hart Benton, who was Astor’s attorney. Henry Brevoort founded Greenwich Village where he had a mansion wherein the first Masque Balls were held. John Astor MR. BIG BUCKS, attended these balls. I am still searching for the costume he wore. Mr. Big Bucks Donald, played music from the Phantom of the Opera at his rallies when he ran for President. This Phantom….is a theme of my book.
In doing my job as a REPORTER I discovered William Buck who translated two books vital to Westerners knowing the Indian Religion. I will have my stand-by muse come to memorize the Mahabarath while living on a small cattle ranch in Montana with her husband – who one day notices his wife has an aura around her head – and is sparkling.
“I have become enlightened my dear husband, and must search for the fate of my master, Bill Buck. He died young after his beer company went belly up. Have you ever drank Anchor Beer!”
“Hell no! That’s sissy beer, made for sissies! Tell me why you are all aglow. I demand to know!”
“O.K. But promise you wont’s be angry. At Taco Belle I finished reading the Mahabharata translated by William Buck. After lunch, and back at work, I began to recite the ten thousands stanzas in this masterful work. While vacuuming the Presidents office, and just as I got to stanza 92,999, I began to feel like I was floating. I was floating – and holding on to the vacuum cleaner whose suction kept me from flying around the room. I have to go to San Francisco!”
“Right now?….One of our cattle is having a breeched birth. Its time for you to put your arm in her and turn her calf. My forearms are too big. Besides, you got to cross a bridge to get there. You know how much you fear water!”
I hereby dedicate ‘Big Bucks’ to Vice President Kamala Harris who was just elected TIMES person of the year, along with Joe Biden. Together they deafest Mr. BIG BUCKS. Kamala grew up in Oakland and is of Indian descent.
I am now going to send off another series of e-mails to the members of Alcohol Justice and inform then I no longer need their services. I will begin sending e-mails to the Buck foundation informing them their eternal vortex has been penetrated by the Spirit of William Buck – who I believe saw the light – and could care less about the brewing company his wealthy Buck family encouraged him to buy. Bill, had become enlightened. Like Zed in the movie Zardoz, he now sees the chariots of fire coming thru the Golden Gate Bridge. God….will find a way!
I just sent this e-mail to Bruce Wolfe. Here is Rena’s late husband that she had two children by. Commodore Sir Ian Easton of the British Defense Staff Washington. I still can’t wrap my mind around the truth that this brave man, who was shot down by a Nazi pilot, gave sanctuary to a beautiful Adult Child of An Alcoholic, and with love, gained her trust wherefore she agreed to have his children. Ian, captured her captured beautiful heart.
The Heart Is A Lonely Brewer
As Irene stood of the Anchor brewery looking up at the art deco tower, she thought she saw Howard Roarke standing at the top. Her evangelical boss, Kaylene, insisted she rad The Fountain Head because Born Again Christians need to get in touch with the Prosperity Jesus and what he has in store for all his chosen ones. He wants his followers to have – BIG BUCKS!
But, then she spotted a man in a black cape looking down on her. Then, she saw King Kong – King of The City of Big Bucks! His huge hand was reaching down to grab her. Irene – fainted there on the sidewalk! When she comes to, she is being carried past these giant copper vats to the nurses room. Here workers were brought, the fortunate ones that managed to be revived after falling in the steaming tanks of hops. There was a church nearby, and too many times a priest came rushing to administer last rights. This was all kept a secret, because….beer was a deadly killer. And San Franciscans were….
BIG BEER LOVERS
“When this groundbreaking book first appeared over ten years ago, Dr. Ackerman identified behavior patterns shared by daughters of alcoholics. Adult daughters of alcoholics—”perfect daughters” —operate from a base of harsh and limiting views of themselves and the world. Having learned that they must function perfectly in order to avoid unpleasant situations, these women often assume responsibility for the failures of others. They are drawn to chemically dependent men and are more likely to become addicted themselves. More than just a text that identifies these behavior patterns, this book collects the thoughts, feelings and experiences of twelve hundred perfect daughters, offering readers an opportunity to explore their own life’s dynamics and thereby heal and grow.
This edition contains updated information throughout the text, and completely new material, including chapters on eating disorders and abuse letters from perfect daughters in various stages of recovery, and helpful, affirming suggestions from Dr. Ackerman at the end of every chapter. This book is essential for every one who found validation, hope, courage and support in the pages of the original Perfect Daughters, as well as new readers and every therapist who confronts these issues.”
John Presco Copyright 2020
Fritz Maytag, of the Maytag appliance family, learned that the makers of his favorite beer, Anchor Steam Beer, were soon to close their doors forever. On August 2, 1965, Maytag rushed to buy 51% of the struggling San Francisco craft brewery for just a few thousand dollars, rescuing Anchor from imminent bankruptcy.
San Francisco, CA – Anchor Brewing Company announces its “Drink Steam” initiative, which introduces a package evolution and kicks off in San Francisco with events, print, digital and out-of-home showcasing curated photography and storytelling focused on craftsmanship and culture. “Drink Steam” is an invitation to try America’s First Craft Beer. The campaign launches as the brewery and its fans celebrate the 50th anniversary of the American Craft Brewing Revolution, led by legendary owner Fritz Maytag who purchased Anchor Brewing Company on August 2, 1965 and changed the industry forever.
“50 years ago, Fritz changed an entire industry built on mass production by holding steadfast to traditional brewing techniques and a commitment to quality. We wanted to celebrate the birth of the Craft Brewing Revolution, Fritz’ legacy, and introduce a whole new generation of beer lovers to Anchor Steam Beer,” said current Anchor Brewing CEO and President Keith Greggor. “You can drink an entire history of craft beer in our Taproom. Before the terms, ‘craft brewing’ and ‘micro-brewing’ had even been coined, Anchor had already brewed the first modern American Porter, IPA, Barleywine, and Wheat Beer. It all started with Anchor Steam Beer though. The foundation of the brewery is built on Anchor Steam; it represents the past, present and future of craft beer.”
In 1965, during a meal at the Old Spaghetti Factory in San Francisco, a young Stanford graduate named Fritz Maytag, of the Maytag appliance family, learned that the makers of his favorite beer, Anchor Steam Beer, were soon to close their doors forever. On August 2, 1965, Maytag rushed to buy 51% of the struggling San Francisco craft brewery for just a few thousand dollars, rescuing Anchor from imminent bankruptcy. At only 27 years old, Maytag, alongside a team of dedicated brewers, revived Anchor Brewing by employing traditional brewing methods and enforcing strict sanitization methods, raising the quality of the beer. The small, but powerful team perfected Anchor Steam and soon began bottling the flagship brew in 1971 before introducing other iconic Anchor beers like Anchor Porter®, Liberty Ale®, Old Foghorn® Barleywine Style Ale, and Christmas Ale. Although the industry now known as craft beer had not yet formed, Anchor Brewing was creating quality,
If you are a real artist, you know there exist a BIG PAY DAY! Today is the day. All good things come to those who wait. Today, I will be gifting the County of Marin with real culture. The point of the compass has been set in a office room at the Buck Foundation that will be converted into The Living Quarters of The Marin Sage. I saw Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati in person – three times. It was rumored she was the lover of Ram Dass whose name appears on one of the books that William Buck translated. In this article ‘The Beats and Dharma Bums are mentioned. This morning I found a New Road that begins in the Village that was founded by Henry Brevoort, and ends on the grounds of The Buck Foundation that was set up by Attorney Robert Brevoort Buck.
Never fuck with the artist that was totally discarded and ruled unfit to play…
THE SIZZLE ART GAME!
If you are an attorney anointed to handle a Creative Legacy of a Dead Creator….kick back and watch to see who the person is that has been utterly eliminated. Pick that person to run the show. Beryl Buck left accumalated Buck Monies in her Will to set up a foundation that would HELP poor people, and give the people of Marin A RELIGIOUS and SPIRITUAL BASE. This was not done. I suspect William Buck was trying to get his powerfully rich family, a spritual base. Today, I have raised Bill from his grave. Like Lazarus he accompanie The Sage to Fortress Buck – that roles out its cannon from the portals. Too late! A horn is sounded! And the walls came tumbling down.
Most artists entertain the idea that one day they will be……..IMMORTAL! The Buck Law firm took that idea away from my beloved sister – and shamed her in public.
John ‘The Marin Sage’
Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati grew up in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, just a short walk from the famous Coney Island Boardwalk. The homeless people who lived under the Boardwalk taught her “There are no throwaway people,” and inspired her to begin a life of service. When she was in her thirties, a weight loss class led her to learn a simple yogic breath that would ultimately bring about her spiritual enlightenment. From there, her personal spiritual journey moved quickly and at times chaotically. As a modern urban woman, she tried to live a normal life and raise a family; at the same time, as a person of rare spiritual gifts, she daily opened to a series of mystical visions and experiences. She had an experience first of Jesus Christ, then of Shri Bhagawan Nityananda of Ganeshpuri, and finally her guru, Shri Neem Karoli Baba. Since then, her teaching has expanded to express many spiritual lineages. She has followed Christ’s instruction to “teach all ways,” going beyond religious differences
Buck began translating the Mahabharata in 1955, the year Allen Ginsberg wrote Howl, and his production seems to reflect a nascent Beat sensibility. This can be seen in the fresh and bright language, in phrases like “you are the god of thieves and writers”, in the idea that the entire Mahabharata must be proclaimed in a single burst of breath, and in the idea that Ganesha must completely understand the story as he is writing it down. I don’t know if Jack Kerouac ever read William Buck’s translations, but he would have approved.
The Mahabharata is a morality tale about a war that was fought between two family clans in the north India region between the Ganges and Yamuna rivers. Its most well-known scene is that of the apparition of Krishna in a chariot occupied by Arjuna, a heroic soldier who suffers a Hamlet-like moment of hesitation before going into battle. This scene provides the setting for the Bhagavad Gita, the most famous section of the work. The rest of the tale, as told by William Buck, is the legend of the family that fought this war. It includes creation myths, encounters with nature, romantic confusions and sexual escapades, journeys into forests, cosmic games of dice.
William Benson Buck (April 20, 1934 – August 26, 1970) was an American writer who produced novelized translations into English of the Sanskrit epic poems Mahabharata and Ramayana. A translation of Harivamsa was unfinished at his death.
Buck was born in Washington, D.C., one of six children of U.S. Congressman Frank H. Buck. He had a sister and four half-siblings. He was a member of the wealthy Buck family of Marin County, California. His great-grandfather was Leonard W. Buck, a politician and businessman. His father died in Washington, D.C. in 1942 while still in office. His mother, Eva Benson Buck, was born to Swedish parents and was Buck’s second wife. After her husband’s death, she moved back to Vacaville, California with William and his younger sister Carol Franc Buck, who grew up at the family’s mansion at 225 Buck Ave.
I always doubted Richard Alpert’s story about giving his guru a massive hit of LSD and it had no affect on him. I asked why the Maharajii would want to miss the amazing affects of coming on to LSD, where one loses all control. As I type, the Evangelicals have lost all control – but they don’t know it yet? Or, do they? For sure they know their President is out of control. Yesterday Trump did a sermon on Windmills. This is his ‘Sermon on the Mount’ that was adlibbed. But, he had practice. It was Don Quixote.
In the last two weeks I almost announced I was God. I do not aspire to be God. I had observed a truth no one considered. When Putin defended Trump from the alleged Witchhunters, he employed the sworn, written testimony of elected Congressman, who asked that their five minute speaches be put in the Congressional Record. This archive is written in English – not Russian!
I was looking at the printing press at Harvard that printed John Eliot’s Indian Bible. It may have been the first book printed in the New World. My kindred, John Wilson, helped with this project that alarmed the King of England. The Puritans had a hand in the printing of the King’s James Bible, the first English Bible, that translated The Words of God – INTO ENGLISH! That a foreign leader, hostile to the United States of America, who waged cyber-warfare WITH ENGLISH WORDS, now uses the Congressional English Record to defeat millions of Democrats, again, who feel violated – IS GODLY STUFF!
Above is a photograph of two Harvard Graduates who took LSD. They used to be my best friends, until they GOT RELIGION. They deserted ship and got chummy with Evangelicals. Which way does the wind blow?
On the left, is Edward Malcom Corbin. His mother’s people are kin to the King of Scotland, and Wallace. They were leaders of the Plymouth Brethren from where John Darby sprang with his Rapture heresy. Ed was an editor at Double Day, and got drunk with Jack Kerouac when he came to speak ENGLISH at Harvard. He got thrown off stage when Jack announced Ed would do all the talking – IN ENGLISH! Ed was a English Major.
Mark Gall is on the right. He was the head of the Department of Education at the University of Oregon. He published over twenty books on how to educate people. See his Veta below. He is a psychologist, as is his wife, Joy. Mark claims he took LSD while at Harvard. Richard Alpert was his advisor-councilor. Mark believes the doses of LSD he took came from Alpert.
The Puritans founded Harvard as a religious ship of state, where the Enlightenment can go…..where no man has gone before! The vast wilderness lie before them, inhabitated by people the Explorers mistook as natives of India. They were looking for the passage to India. Alpert needs to be honored at Harvard. He was thrown out for giving students LSD. How many saw God? How many – claimed they were God?
Below is an account of the time I saw THE LIGHT OF GOD. I was not on drugs. My credibility came under attack by my neighbors, and the Eugene Anarchists. They want me to be seen as INSANE. They want to make me believe I am insane. They want to destroy me, because, they got in my way – and know it! Our paths crossed, and they did not fare well. The same thing happened to my fellow reporter, Khashoggi, who is experiencing a DOUBLE DEATH! His journalistic search for THE TRUTH got him murdered. Yesterday, a fake arrest of his killers was staged by a wealthy Arab despot. They are going to be executed so this potentate Maharaj can be rendered GUILTLESS – without sin! This is a disaster for Islam. Erdogan knows this. He is a devout Muslim who has studied the Islamic Enlightenment that took place at the Alhambra in Spain. Three languages came together. Christopher Columbus was funded by the King and Queen who lived in the Alhambra castle. The Christian-right is plating their flag all over America, claiming they own – IT ALL! These LIARS can not own anything without owning THE TRUTH!
Mankind, is till looking for The Truth. Richard Alpert claimed he found – many truths. How many truths did he take to the grave that no one will know about? Let us assume Richard found a way to dose the whole world, and, from another dimension, he is our guide on a massive Acid Trip and Test – till sundown on Christmas Day.
In honor of the work Ram Dass has done on this planet, and in honor of the God he saw, that we may all see……I take you on a dry LSD trip. I do not encourage anyone to take LSD or any drug. I will be your guide. Tonight, at an hour after sunset, light three candles and place them going away from you. Lie on the floor on a mat. Put a ornate pillow under your head. Put on Bob Dylan’s Visions of Johanna.
You will feel a slight tightness in your throat. There is a secretion of energy that grows in intensity. You will get your first visions. This energy moves to your chest and then to your solar plexus. All of a sudden you realize you are one with the words, and the music accompanies the energy that moves up and down your spinal chord. God is playing you like a Ozark Saw. The energy is beyond your control. You get to look at what that means, what that is, what that feels like. There is a orgasmic quality to this. You can stay in this for as long as you like – it seems! Ram Dass has his guru skip the highly sexy nature of all things, and go to the crown of your cranium where there is an explosion of gold light, that showers you in streams and rivers of sparkling pure thought. An hour or two later, you have come back. But, you are seeing and hearing reality on the true mundane level. You are dancing on the edge of illusion. You know what illusion is, which is the first step to Enlightenment. Now you can read this headline and see how it fits – THE TRUTH!
Altered reality! You are the master of your ship, the captain of your soul. We love you Ram Dass! You love, us! You discovered the Way to India!
John Wilson Rosamond