Royal Rose Of The World 4

Chapter Four – Reading From Royal Rosamond Press

I have gone through my newspaper-blog to give a sample of my posts that will make up several books.

VRR

* * *

Victoria could not believe her luck. Admiral Sinclair was being stationed in Japan and asked Victoria Bond if she wanted to purchase his Aston Martin. The second she lay eyes on it in the parking lot, Miriam wanted to drive it.

‘You don’t know how to drive!” offered Victoria, relieved that her lover was not going to get behind ‘Her Dream’ and more than likely – wreck it.

“You can teach me! I am a quick learner!” Retorted Starfish – who gave her dear friend – the look.

“Shit!” Bond said, and was now googling the nearest airport where there was always a airport road that no one uses. She found one that was long enough to get her Aston thru her gears. As promised, Miriam proved to be a very fast learner!

(Fuck!) said Bond to herself, knowing what was coming next.

“Can I have it! “

Behind the wheel of her new Aston Martin, of which only 77 were made, Starfish let go a yell!

“Tarzana…….here we come!”

Drivers who love to drive real fast on the LA freeways, instinctively felt Starfish coming, and checked out their rearview mirror. If they did not move to the right fast enough, Agent 006 pulled up on their right, and gave the driver – the vicious glare that many dead men had seen. It was the last thing they saw. Being dressed like a Savage completed the deal, as did the ashen look on Victoria’s face. Was she taken hostage? Were they about to be – on the news? Is there a helicopter flying overhead?

(Gulp!)

At the Edgar Rice Burroughs Museum, Miriam now excitedly talked about her Russian father who attended UC on some kind of scholarship. After seeing a Tarzan movie on T.V. Alexis started buying Tarzan comic books, and other pulp fiction written by Ed. He loved the illustrations by his son, Jack, or, John. Starfish was lecturing Victoria with Edgar’s fixation on the name JOHN. He named his son John, and his daughter Joan.

“My middle name is Jane!” exclaimed Starfish in a melcoholic way. My mother hated her husband’s fixation with the JOHN name. They were arguing on the Oregon Coast, and Virginia pointed to a starfish in a tidepool.

“This is what our daughter will be called!”

“When we have a baby, we will name her Jane.”

“After Tarzan’s wife?” asked Victoria as she beheld a photograph of Jane and Tarzan in their tree house.

Starfish came over and looked at the photograph and went into a deep trance.

“Maybe I will call you Jane.”

“And, what will I call you – Tarzan? Take me to lunch.”

“Where?”

_______________

When the Aston pulled up in front of Gucci in Beverly Hills, heads turned when Starfish got out of the car. They had seen several Aston Martin’s around town – on a regular basis. There were James Bond wanna-bees. Seated on the deck at a table for two, our BAD agents got a call that would change the course of history.

History will tell that the global war with China was hatched here – with a palm tree in the background! Looking at the laptops, they saw a hundred container ships anchored off Los Angeles. There was a Trojan Horse concern. China had developed a super weapon that could knock out all our computers – along with the power grid. What if these ships contained that weapon?

“How do we get on those ships?” typed Victoria.

“You need a cover. We were thinking about two cultural reporters for the Getty Foundation who want to do a article on the cultural affect these ships are having on Los Angeles. Come up with new names.”

“I will be Mary Jane Starfish, and, you will be….Joan!”

“I hate the name Joan!”

“But, it is- so you. You are the serious and sane one, who helps ground your Wild Woman!”

“There is Joan Rosamond Clifford. I’ve always enjoyed her history. How does Joan Rosamond sound?”

“Perfect – Joan! Joan Rosamond, Cultural Curator of the Getty Museum, and, her sidekick Mary Jane!”

Halfway through lunch, Mary Jane launched another one of her fantastic Russian fables at her.

“Did you know China invaded Troy, and helped conquer it. The Trojan Horse was made in China. It led a vast army that came along what would be known as the Silk Road. The Greeks convinced the son of the ruler to help the Greeks conquer China. When the Emperor saw his son on the horse, he felt totally betrayed. He was able to gather and army and defeat the Greek menace. Several generations later, Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China ,made a terracotta army believing Greek statues were the source of their Warrior Power.”

Joan gave her lover a long look.

“Are you a Russian plant? Who fed you all this bullshit? We’ll use it. Chinese leaders are terrible at denial. There culture is rooted in luck, not lying, as we find in Genesis. Lying to God is such a strange concept.”

“Are you talking about the Adam and Even encounter? Adam was made in the image of The Truth, which is God. But Eve brought another lesson. Being culpable does not always work. Being creative works – most of the time. I will teach you about The Shekinah when we have more time. My parents used to take me to court trials in our small town – for entertainment. We had no picture show.”

(a fashionable couple in the neighboring table – caught that one – and wondered if they were smoking marihuana.)

“Did you know Maureen Sullivan is Mia Farrow’s mother?” quipped Joan. And, that bit of gossip turned some heads. Eavesdroppers!

“Rosemary’s Baby! They used to call me that because the way I stared at the judge, and – THE ACCUSED!”

“Lose lips, sink ships! How do you deal with the idea of Godly Punishment? Adam, is a snitch!”

The woman at the next table began to choke on her piece of fancy asparagus. Starfish slowly turned, and, gave her…….the look.

The Royal Janitor

by

John Presco

Copyright 2019

One can conclude the best thing about being in love, is contemplating – if you have fallen in love! As Victoria lie in her bed, frozen in a strange wave of eroticism, she was forced to consider if her subordinate had come onto her, made a very obvious pass at her.  She could not get the sight of her Calvin Klein panties out of her mind. Victoria felt her heat transmitted though he oak desk. This was so – forbidden! But, then came her words;

“You got it!”

Victoria felt her stomach muscle constrict. She had a powerful desire to touch herself. Then she violently threw that thought aside. In it’s pace was the idea she had been seduced by a human being. This was a major move in Victoria’s chessboard. A whole new world had collided with her singular world. Instant trade agreements were now on the horizon. The idea of intimately sharing ones existence with another, had never happened to Victoria. This possibility superseded all sexual desire – and sent Victoria soaring into the cosmos! Her heart was pounding. When she realized Miriam had come to this place before her, and was waiting for her – to arrive – was beyond compare. This waiting, this, longing is a great teacher, that imparts the finest ideas, ideals we will ever know. But, this realization is cloaked in our sexual being, that we are compelled to come to terms with.

Victoria studied Miriam’s face. She had resigned herself to her fate.

Oh my God………she loves me! She has fallen in love with me. Being around Barbazanya was the preamble to the world that awaited her, that had already arrived. Is this a case of – love at first sight? Did they fall in love with each other in the first seconds of their meeting? There is my cellphone. Call her…….in the lonely boiler room!

Victoria turned on her stomach, grabbed her pillow hard, and buried her head and breasts in it. She then let out this strange sound, and raised her hips ever so slightly. Everything is possible! It is all permitted!

Victoria arrived early for work. Sitting behind her desk she could not contain herself. Soon she will be seeing Miriam’s beautiful flat abdomen, with that incredible belly button. Then she heard the sharp approach of heals coming down the hall. When she saw Miriam, she gasped, then, felt sick to her stomach.

Miriam was wearing a black skirt and white blouse buttoned to the top. She had on white socks that highlighted he clunky black nurses shoes with a thick heal. Her hair was put in a tight bun. From the side Miriam looked at Victoria. Her eyes were puffy. She had been crying. She had not slept well.

Victoria felt a powerful tingling. What have I done? She wanted to go an embrace Miriam, and reassure her, tell her…….I know. But Miriam’s superior intuition had already discovered Victoria’s secret that was just sixteen hours old. Here was the other have of the events…..when worlds collide…….that are extremely complex.

Suppressing a sob, Victoria got up to pour herself a cup of coffee. She had to pass Miriam sitting at he desk. Coming back to her desk, her hand was shaking. she was spilling coffe on the white carpet. Then……….she fainted!

The next day the gardener told Nattitude that he found a trail of clothing leading to one of the cork oaks Prince Alpert had planted. Looking up, he saw Miriam working on her tree house. She couldn’t go back to the boiler room. She had outgrown it. She had outgrown everything. Here in her tree, she could nurse, she could caress, her love for Victoria. Miriam was love sick.

Victoria was grateful she had fainted. She had dressed all wrong. Now she had a chance to run to her room, as Miriam ran to her room, crying. She had spilled coffee on her Bohemian Gypsy dress that exposed her perfectly flat abdomen. She was wearing a Spanish halter top. Did she own a pair of castanets? Ripping her work uniform off the hanger, she pulled her tight skirt up. Did she own a pair of Calvin Klien shorts for women? Digging into her drawers, she came up empty. She did find the top half of her Betty Page erotica outfit. She loved the pointed bra look that hooked many a man in the fifties and early sixties. Now she was at her mirror putting on bright red lipstick. Should she wear her pearls? No. Button her blouse to the top button matched Miriams meassage, saying their Days of Whine and Roses, was over. The truth was, they had just begun!

Coming back into the common work area, Victoria caught Miriam’s eye, and wouldn’t let go. She bent down to pick up the earring she just dropped.

“Oh, here it is. I thought I lostit!”

Nattitude watched Miriam take it all in. The days of Tight Buns and Pointed Tits had begun. Victoria had her hair in a tight bun, and, was giving her co-worker a good look at her profile. Het tits were way out to – here! Miriam had to get a bra like that. Victoria couldn’t wait for the clock to strike five s she could buy a couple pair of Calvin Kleins. She just missed Mirriam coming out of the Betty Page shop.

The sexual tension in the office that morning – was fierce! It was an erotic fencing contest between two women. Nattitude called her husband just before lunch.

“I love you darling!”

“Is anything wrong? I can tell by your voice something is going down. Are you in any danger? Shall I come over?”

“Ahhh………no!……….Are you two breaking for lunch? (click)”

Her co-workers did not hear. There ears were inflamed, engorged with blood. Both were panting like bloodhounds. Who’s going to jump on whom? It was like ‘The Battle of Britain’. The sound of the Buzz-bomb made everyone tense. As long as your heard the buzzing, everyone was safe. Their pussies, were buzzing. Have they no shame?

Then, it happened. Miriam moved down the hall to the fax room, like a great cat. Victoria took in every muscle of her glutamus maximus. Putting her hand on the doorknob, Miriam Wild Woman turned her head slowly, sand gave her boss…..The Look!

Victoria would like to think she got around her desk in a graceful manner, but, Nattitude describes it to her husband, like this;

“Have you seen videos of The Running of the Bulls? You see this dude come barreling around the corner because a bull is right on his ass. Then, when your think he’s going to get gored, the bull slips on the cobblestone! Victoria was like that bull. She knocked a bunch of shit off her desk, and tipped over the printer table. She didn’t every notice! Hardy! Har! Har!”

Natitude’s husband did not laugh, because he had heard too much office talked about Miriam, that was supposed to stay in the office. He had two nightmares about her.

What she had given Victoria was The Look of Complete Receptiveness that had repopulated the planet – many times over! One of the two have to give this look, or, we would not exist as a species. Victoria thought she would be the receptive one, due to Miriam fierce aggressiveness. The realization that she would tame the tiger, get her to raise her tail for her, was like scoring a knock-out with a upper cut. Ms. Bond had a raging boner for her beloved bodyguard.

When Victoria put her hand the knob, it was hot to the touch. Throwing the door open quickly, she shit it even more quickly. She had crossed the threshold. The fax room was filled with flames. From Miriam’s solar plexus shot these waves of blue flames that came to caress Victoria, and pull her close.  Then there were these green eyes that looked at Victoria like a panther in the forest.

Panting, not able to catch her breath, Victoria let go with the agreement she had been rehearsing for four days.

“I’ll show you my Calvin Klein’s, if you show me yours?”

“We are victims of a very successful Branding campaign.” said Victoria. “Now, turn around!”

When Nattitude came to work the next day, she opened the front door, tentavly. Things were in disarray, out of place.

They done slicked up my work space!” Nattitude said with a tisk. “They done played nasty in tere!”

Victoria did not say good morning to Nattitude, because she only had eyes for Miriam, who was in the little girl’s room. Victoria had ordered a huge bouquet of flowers. Next to the vase was an envelope containing the poem she whipped out for………her lover. Instead of the sexual tension, subsiding, it was now a British Air-raid Siren that you could feel for miles,

* * *

Two years ago I decided to make the heroines of my Bond book, gay curious. I did this because Putin was viciously attacking gay people in Russia, and the Democratic Party who is tolerant of all peoples who do not fit the Christian-conservative Brand. Many evangelical back Putin because of his hard line against homosexuality – even though he is pro-abortion. I have proven Liz Taylor is my kindred. Her and Aileen Getty are HIV advocates. Liz was the muse for Andy Warhol. My famous sister wanted me to be famous, an offered to teach me her style. She was being ruthlessly questioned about why she painted beautiful women. Gay women kept asking her if she was gay.

If you google Ian Fleming you will get two article on Naughty and Erotic Jamaica. Here famous authors, actors, and producers came to get away from the Puritanical Righteous Ones who love to judge others by their sexual preference and appetite. Liz did not know we descend from the famous Puritan, John Wilson – who would die of shock if her saw a woman like the one below.

Millions of Christians are gleefully empowered by a man who grabbed women’s privates against their will. Jesus did not damn anyone for their sexual being. He did condemn the hypocrites because they dirty everything. Life is hard. Life and be a Joy. The result of our sexual joy is life in the case of heterosexuals – who are allowed to serve their county. I wanted to see what that looks like from perspective of LGBT people. The persecution of these Americans – is the greatest threat to our Democracy!

Of course I have weighed the idea that I might not make any money, my not get published, nor see a movie based on my book. Richard Burton is in my family with the other actors Liz bonded with who helped change the world.

I am not trying to be a champion of he LGBT community or reveal anything remarkable about my sexual preferences and history. I admire the members of ‘Pussy Riot’ because they refuse to marginalized in nation who hunts those oppose them – wherever they may be – an kills unarmed people. A agent was recently brought home in fear the actions of POTUS would put his life in danger.

Does our President see himself as James Bond who had a knack for finding and bedding very sexually experienced women with no hang-ups, such is the image our First Lady – the ex-model – that is broadcast to the world?  Has she had a Lesbian affair? Heterosexual men are turned on by women making love to one another. Melania is one of my models for Miriam Starfish Christling. Why not find the First Lady living naked in a great oak outside the White House that is the Trump Never Never Land. Liz encouraged Michael Jackson to take up art. He grew up in a fantasy world and did not have a clue about his sexual being. In many respects he was like Tarzan.

History will ask why Trump did run for President, know very well the deviant baggage that he – and his wives carried! Donald fits the description that Burton applied to Fleming. Going around chasing people down ad shooting them, is, boring! We live in the Salome Age, where beautiful women dance for the heads of prophets – on a platter! She was the Mean Teen of Bible. She always got her way. Damn the consequences! How many naked dances did she do, for how many prophets? Was Salome bi-sexual? How about Melania?

 am almost positive Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor is my kin, and thus, I am in Ian Fleming’s family tree.

Yesterday I realized my newspaper Royal Rosamond Press, can become – BIG – if I promoted it. However, I love writing, and am too occupied. What I long needed, was credibility. Lara Roozemond (and her people) may be suspicious because there is no money-business thing. It appears I have no money – which I don’t! We are seeing how beautiful women get in trouble when they are lured into it by men with fame and money. My motive was to make Lara famous as the first Female Bond, and take this abuse, on.

The solution I came up with yesterday, was to form ‘Royal Rosamond Fashions’ and sell both my newspaper and magazine to  trustworthy publisher. I need – a team on my side! My sister offered to teach me her style, and I turned her down because she was SO commercial. Christine Rosamond Presco-Benton, loved to sew and made her own clothing. So did my mother, Rosemary Rosamond. My grandmother, Mary Magdalene ‘Rose of the World’, made hats to help support her four beautiful daughters. My grandfather was not making money at his craft. As part of the Fashion Image, I would like to do images of models and celebrities in the Rosamond style. I was going to make this offer to Lara Roozemont. She inspires me!

Also, I have been thinking about creating ‘Redneck Boho’. The Red States are becoming more liberal, and, the neo-Confederate look is out.

I want to promote Liz Taylor’s companies and legacies for the sake of our Rosy Tree. Fleming hand-picked Richard Burton to play Bond, but, was turned down. Burton is also in my Rosy Family Tree. If he had been the genius some claim he was (he is dead) then, he would have looked at Liz, and cried;

“There goes my Bond! She’s a woman!”

If I make my Bond a male again, then, why not make HIM the Hidden Child of Burton and Liz. I got ten Bond books – at least! Sitting outside the Emerald Art Association, I told my friend Sandy the old widows of the Wood Workers of the World threw me out of their art colony, when I suggested they enter the Wood Ant Queen in the Eugene Celebration. I told them Liz was my second cousin.

To discover Liz was born in Augustus John’s house, with twenty paintings on his wall, says it all. Her father was sent home to America to be John’s agent in America. Her uncle Howard was a purchaser of fine art for the American rich. He played poker with his good friend, General Eisenhower, Commander of all Allied forces. Though it appears Monica Delacroix is Bond’s mother, I see this as a code denoting Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, and ‘The Rose Croix’ of the world, and, THEY made their move when Hitler put a price on the head of Empress Zita von Habsburg, whose son co-founded Pan-Europa!

What I am suggesting, is, when Liz and her entourage came under the Arch de Triumph in faux Hollywood Rome, the Jewish Directors threw Hitler a GIANT finger. He went insane, some more! From atop his penthouse in the Village, Hitler watched the career of a ambitious man, whose grandfather was born in Paris. Why Paris?

All my communication with Lara Roozemond, is copyrighted. I don’t trust that Dutch wench! She’s got Clever Blood in her veins!

Jon Presco

President: Royal Rosamond Press & Fashions

Copyright 2018

P.S. I just sent Bond Publication this e-mail. This is bigger than Planet X. Almost everyone wants to see Hitler brought to Justice, or, his grandson!

My name is Jon Presco a.k.a John Ambrose. Liz Taylor is my kin. Via her son’s marriage into the Getty family, we are related to Ian Fleming. Liz was born in the home owned by Augustus John. My Bond book is titled ‘The Royal Janitor’. I would like to know the rules for this, and, be on your good side,

Jon Pesco

President: Royal Rosamond Press

Start here, and begin your journey.

According to Jimmy Rosamond, the late actress, Elizabeth Rosemond Tyalor, is my kin. Dame Elizabeth is in the Peerage. Over ten years ago Elizabeth put a short biography, along with the top photo, on the Rosamond geneaology website. Then it was gone. She may now be kin to the Stewarts, and her children may want to take the DNA test so we may gather our roses, bring them into the Rose of the World Garden.

Everyone said Rosemary and Christine looked like and also had amazing eyes. If you believe the tabloids, Liz had a racy sex life like Rosemary did, whose portrait is seen above, she holding an empty wine glass – with exposed nipple! A Mafia Moll?

My newspaper is a Bohemian, Counter-culture archive that anticipated the coming of Trump, who just delivered ‘The Sermon Atop The Tower’. I do not have much time left on this planet. I need to finish and publish my conclusion that Jesus was a white man who ministered to Celtic slaves. This will set Christianity on it ear. There are several good ideas for movies, and books. I will write a weekly blog, if so desired.

I am asking $3,000,000 million dollars.

When I read the following this morning, the book, and movie ‘Gone With The Wind’ came to mind.

“The couple had nine children; eight girls and but one son — Martin — who served with Lucas County boys in Company C of the 13th Iowa Infantry and died in service in 1862. When James Roseman died in 1887, there was nobody by the name of Roseman left in the county.”

Thanks to my kin, Charles M. Wright, I was able to find the Western branch of the Rosemond-Rosemond-Rosemond family that descends from James Roseman, Phillip Rosemond, and Moses Morton Rosemond. Add to this branch my grandfather Frank W. Rosamond, and his four daughters, June, Bertha, Rosemary, and Lillian, and the Western Rosamond family, is complete.

I have chosen Mary Morton Rosemond t ground all the Rosy families, because she is a trained Librarian and State Archivist. If she were alive, she would be doing what I and Jimmy Rosamond have been doing for many years. The Rosemond family is mentioned in several history books, none more tragic then the Record of Iowa Soldiers. Why did they let Martin join The War of the Rebellions? He was surrounded by eight beautiful sisters who loved him dearly. He got wound, and was discharged. He came home and died shortly of his wound. What a heartbreak to say goodbye. He was handsome, and, perhaps too effeminate? Did he, and others believe he would come home……….a man. A Rose Man?

There are some profound parallels between the history of The Gone With The Wind, and the Roseman family who were pioneers. They Came from Ireland, and went West. Their name is gone, but their DNA is all over Iowa, including the bloodline to the Wieneke of Iowa. Frank Weseley Rosamond married Mary Magdalene Wieneke, and thus another Mary M. Rosamond. What is in a name? Did Mary Rosemond ever dream one of her kin would become one of the most famous Movie Stars of all time? Then there is my sister’s famous works of art, she know all over the world for her images of beautiful women. Christine Rosamond Benton used her middle name to sign her work, thus giving this name new life. I suspect Mary Morton gathered all her Roses around her, and this monument, with, just the name.

I am kin to Richard Burton who Ian Fleming wanted to play the first James Bond. Liz Taylor is kin to Fleming via Aeilene Getty. The Getty family have founded famous libraries, archives, and museums.

At the residence of his mother, Mrs. M. J. Johnson, 512 East Capitol Avenue, Sunday morning, Jan. 22, 1900, at 8:45 o’clock, of lung trouble, Frank W. Rosemond, aged 25 years, 6 months, and 7 days. Mr. Rosemond had been in failing health for a year, and for the past three weeks had been confined to his bed. He was born in Ohio, had resided in Springfield for fifteen years, and formed the acquaintance of a large circle of friends by whom he was held in high esteem. He is survived by his mother and three sisters, Mrs. T. M. Taylor, of Centerville, Ia.; Mrs. L. A. Duckworth of St. Louis, and Miss Mabel Rosemond of Springfield. The funeral will take place from the residence Tuesday afternoon at 2 o’clock. The services will be conducted by the Rev. J. E. Lynn, pastor of the Christian church, and the remains will be interred in Oak Ridge cemetery. Publ. in Illinois State Register, Springfield, IL, 1-29-1900

Charles M. Wright said…

I was curious when I read that Elizabeth Taylor was born in England but both of her parents were born in the United States so I Googled the actresses’ name. When I then read that her paternal grandmother was Elizabeth Mary Rosemond, my interest was piqued. My Great-Grandmother’s maiden name was Rosemond. (Many, but not all of the family changed the spelling to Roseman after they came to America from Ireland. Hereafter I will use the spelling Roseman for James and his family.)

It didn’t take long, using my genealogy, Ancestry.com and other sources to discover that my Great-Great-Grandfather James Roseman (1800-1887) who lies buried in the Bethel Cemetery in Cedar Township, was an older brother of Elizabeth Taylor’s Great-Great-Grandfather Philip Rosemond (1804-1850). Elizabeth Taylor was my 4th cousin!

James Roseman, his wife Anne and two young daughters left County Leitrim, Ireland in 1831 and sailed to America following others of the Rosemond clan who had earlier been “warned out” because of their Huguenot ancestry. They first settled among Rosemond kin in Guernsey County, Ohio where my Great-Grandmother Mary Ann Roseman Wright was born in 1832. The family moved to Iowa in 1850 and appear in the 1856 Iowa census of Muscatine County. James purchased land in Cedar Township, Lucas County in March, 1857 and settled his family near daughter Mary Ann Roseman Wright whose husband David S. Wright had come to the county and purchased 80 acres of land n Cedar and Pleasant Townships in 1856. Anne, the wife of James Roseman, died in 1859 and was among the earliest burials in the Bethel Cemetery. The couple had nine children; eight girls and but one son — Martin — who served with Lucas County boys in Company C of the 13th Iowa Infantry and died in service in 1862. When James Roseman died in 1887, there was nobody by the name of Roseman left in the county.

You can see photos of James Roseman, his son Martin Roseman, daughter Mary Ann Roseman Wright, and son-in-law Stephen Julian among the memorials posted in the Bethel Cemetery on Findagrave.com.

Miriam’s Tree House | Rosamond Press

The Royal Janitor

by

John Presco

Copyright 2018

It can be said Miriam is always experiencing mood swings, but several days after she and Victoria returned from Eugene Oregon, her mood had taken a turn for the worse.

“I hate my room. I need to be relocated. My accommodations are not austere enough. I need an environment that is more, severe.”

“Didn’t we go through this when your were hired? You saw all the rooms at Osborne, and settled on the chore girl’s room. Didn’t you measure it? Is the bed – too big?”

“Stop patronizing me. I know the story of Goldylicks.”

“That’s – locks!”

“Whatever! I have studied Osborne House. The chore girls were sluts. They didn’t last long. They got pregnant in a year. I feel like I’m living in a whore house.I’m a good Christian girl.”

“Well! Aren’t we picky. How about the boiler room?”

“Show me!”

It was love at first sight! Miriam shrieked when she saw the old army cot.

“Is this – mine?”

“Ahh – yes. The boiler man uses it when there is boiler trouble and he has to spend the night.”

“Is he an old guy?”

“Yes!”

“Tell him he can have my old room.”

“O.K.”

Well, the boiler guy was not told anything, and when he came to make his weekly check on his boiler, there was Miriam laying naked on his cot staring up at the monograms on the boiler. She had an earplug in that broadcast tinny music and the news report from he crystal radio set she made. The boiler guy studied her long lithe form lit by Miriam’s kerosene lamp. A wave of jealousy swept over him. This is how he longed to live, but, then he would not find the right person to live with him. And…..there she be!

“I deserve you!” The boiler man said in a haunting voice. Miriam jumped up, and was ready to pounce. The old man saw the fire of the furnace between her long legs. her eyes were ablaze.

“Thank you. I will be going now!”

Miriam lay back down on her cot. A man had just seen her naked in Osborne House. She went back to studying the monogram, and let out a quite whimper because she was mind-blind to monograms. She could not fathom them, see the letters.

“Why?” she asked. Miriam was talking to herself, and it was noticed. Victoria summoned her to her office.

“Miriam. It has come to my attention you are talking to yourself.”

“Did that old fuck say something?”

“If you are talking about the boiler guy, he quit. You really stressed him out. I might have to ask you to wear more clothes.”

“Good! I want his job!” Miriam asked, and Victoria was relieved a fight over her dress had been avoided another day.

“You got it. No need to tell me you studied-up.”

“Did you know twenty percent of the boilers in the great estate were maintained by The Dorchester Orion Amalgamate. Union members wear the belt of Orion. The Romans commissioned them to supply wood for their baths throughout England. They are way older than the Catholic church. My menstrual cycles are affected by Orion’s Belt.

“Really!” Victoria said, and sucked in some air through her gritted teach. She was not in the mood for more strange Communist cosmologies that developed behind the Iron Curtain in the 50s. “Miriam. I think it would be best that you go out, more often. No, that was bullshit. Miriam, you need a social life. Your moods have soured. If you were a feline, I would buy a cat for you to play with. You are in need of a companion. We have found someone your age who will play with you. We do not want you hitting the pick-up bars. You don’t take rejection well.”

“Are you paying her to play with me?”

“No – yes! She’s a professional model, and, her whole life is dedicated to her craft. Models are always, on. Even when asleep.”

“How do you know she will get along with me?”

“We don’t. Thiis is why we thought it best she be on the payroll.”

“May I ask, who “we” is? Have you, and the others, been spying on me?” With that question, Miriam turned her back, but not before Miriam shot Victoria a very lethal look. Now her boss felt all the cylinders of her fury being ignited.

“Gulp! Did I just tell my deadly bodyguard I am paying someone to play with her. What kind of asshole am I? I’m – dead! I deserve to die.”

Miram gripped the handle on her desk drawer where she hept her required weapon. But, Mirriam turned, and was wearing a bright happy look!”

“What’s her name. I can’t wait to meet her! This will be so much fun!”

“Ah….Let me see!” Victoria flipped through her notes. “Her name is Barbazanya! I want you to take a week off in order to get know each other.”

“What a beautiful name! I will send you pics!”


Then one day, Nattitude announced

“Hey – look! I just got some pics of Miriam. Come look!”

Victoria rushed over feeling a pang of jealousy.

“She was supposed to be sending me pics!” Victoria gasped. “Oh my God! Is this our Miriam? She looks so – artificial! That’s Barbazanya? She’s gorgeous! What!? Miriam won a string bikini contest? I told her not to model!”

“Yeah! But, you didn’t tell her she couldn’t enter a beauty contest. You got to be specific. My thirteen years old daughter can bend light around corners.”

“Why does Barbazanya have her arm draped over Miriam’s leg? She not writing. She’s just pretending. What the?”

“Their posing.” Nattitude said. ‘They’re posing for you.”

“Why?”

“They want to make you jealous. How many girlfriends did you have growing up?”

“None!………What a phony!”

Nattitude cleared her throat, ever so slightly, then, put her Rubic’s Cube down on her desk. She was done figuring this one out.

“Look at that – baby face! Those are pouting baby lips! Barbazanya has taken her cute little baby to the beach wearing her baby bonnet! What is this, stuff? Who shot these pics? These aren’t selfies. This is professional eroticism for women – only! Do men look at these magazines, Nattitude? Do black women have similar magazines? Why haven’t I seen this before?”

“Hey, leave me out of this! The answers are, no, and no!” Nattitude looked at her computer screen to avoid seeing Victoria home-in on those baby bee-stung lips, that are very popular. Many women desire to own lips like this, and spend millions on plastic surgery.

“Looks like we have a hot commodity working for us! Barbazanya should be paying us!”

When Miriam got back from vacation, she was curt. She never made eye contact with her boss. Then, Miriam came to work with her underwear showing. The button on her jeans was undone. She read ‘Calvin Klein’. Fashion World had invaded the headquarters of BAD. Victoria felt her heart drop – in a deep plunge into pure jealousy. Barbazanya had done a Calvin Klein layout  that was on T.V.. These were – her underwear!

You bitch……Victoria said under her crimson blush. You paid me back. You’re telling me she owns you, now! You are her little slut, now!

Miriam stood at Victoria’s desk, rubbing it in. She leaned foreword and pressed her mound of Venus against her boss’s desk.

“You wanted to ask me something?”‘

“Yes. I don’t want you walking around the office with your underwear hanging out. I understand this look is sweeping the fashion world, but, we………..”

“O.K. Anything else?”

“Yes. I don’t want you to see Barbazanya again.”

“You got it!”

The Royal Janitor

by

John Presco

Copyright 2019

Victoria was in bed reading ‘1984’ for the umpteenth time, when she there came a quiet knock on her bedroom door.

“Victoria. Are you asleep?”

“No. Come in!”

Victoria gasped when she beheld Miriam completely naked. Her gold hair flowing over her beautiful body, completed the complete package that got the full attention of Man, since the dawn of creation. Victoria stared at Miriam’s mound of Venus and the V-shape of her pubic mat. For the first time she felt like a trespasser. This is – The Area of Man! Only a Man can gaze upon this! Miriam had never been in Victoria’s bedroom, and thus she too was a trespasser – because she was compleltely nude under the covers. So many things are wrong with this picture, yet everything was never so – right!

“I thought we were going to take a break from one another?”

How many lovers have heard these words, spoken these words, for the first time, only to be made a liar. The First Breaking, is a great erotic event, for one has to untangle the tenacles ‘The Love Aura’ has you wrapped you in. One cacoon fits all! The un-weaving of the afterglow, is like a re-run, but, it is another movie altogether. What is, and what ought to be do have their time and place. Sometimes we arrive at perfection – and completion!

It was just two hours ago, that Victoria walked her dear Miriam to her tree house, they both dressed in the long night gowns they found in Victoria and Prince Albert closet. They were over a hundred years old. They grabbed an old latern that guided their way to the great oak. It was a scene out of Peter Pan, and other such Fairytales.

“Do you want me to come up and tuck you in?”

“No! I’m not ready for you to come up here. Goodnight!”

“Good night!”

Victoria put her book down on the nightstand and watched Miriam take her first steps into her sanctuary. She was reminded of the Tiger at the London Zoo. She was, gracefully looking for something – to feed on! She went right to it.

“Oh! What is this?”

When Miriam pulled her lovers photo album off the shelf it sounded like a tomb door opening. Victoria did not answer.  Gliding to the bed, she threw the beefy book on the comforter, then dove on the bed herself. At the sight of her beautiful derrier and back, Victoria was ready for another Erotic Attack.

“You know. I really don’t know you. Do you think you know me?”

Here is another great line lovers mutter after the first ‘Fiery Glow of Pure Lust’ has subsided. Everything gets pushed to the side to get your lust next to the one – you have to have. This is why many men shove one-night-stands out of their bed, and abode, because they never did want to know the latest seducee. The Big Lie lies right at the very beginning!It takes too much effort to learn anything about who you ark fucking, and, it leads to other things. What things? Well, more fucking, but, not with the same person if you play your cards right.

“I was lying in my tree, and was almost asleep, when my eyes were wide open! You are good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”

“Ah….it’s my proffesion.” Victoria said, and gave her lover her best coquettish smile.

“Oh, you are so cute. I could just eat you up!”

All of a sudeen, the gate to the tiger cage was open, and the tiger was lying next to Victoria sharing her lunch as they gazed into the empty tiger’s cage. This is why she loved George Orwell. His metaphors have a life of their own, that roam the landscape long after his book is done – and the movie! No telling where they will show up. For the first time Victoria felt like The Man, with his……..? Without the play of the elusive erection, there was no easy set goal – and completion! Do Lesbian wrestle with this dilemma, this, complaint?

All of a sudden, Victoria saw Miriam as Alice in Wonderand. Best let her do all the wondering and wandering about – lest they both get exhausted. Turning many pages, Miriam got extremely excited.

“I want this horse! Is this your horse?”

“Why do you want a horse?”

“So I can ride it to town, naked, and proclaim our love!”

“Of course. Why did I ask? It was my horse. They sold it when I lost interest in riding it. I wanted to be a champion Dresser, but, I didn’t have – it.”

On hearig this, Miriam slowy closed the album, and like a python slithered across the silk bedspread, pulled back the covers, and lay the entire length of her body atop Victoria, who tingled all over as she felt Miriam’s hair entwine with her hair. Venus took her glowing face in her hands, looked deeply into her lovers eyes, and said;

“You have – it – now! I want to sleep with you…..like this. I want to fall asleep on top of you, like this. I want to close my eyes, next to your eyes…………like this!”

And, just like that, Miriam fell into a deep sleep. Victoria listend to her shallow breathing. There came the cutest snoring then……..from her deep dream……..

“Buy me that horse!”

For half an hour Victoria let her tears roll down from the corner of her eyes. There was a rivlet of tears that ran past her ears to the lakes that formed at her neck. Only now did she realize how utterly alone she was after she lost her mother, like Miriam had lost hers.

Miriam was getting heavy. She had big Nordic bones. The Vikings made inroads into Russia. I wonder if she is kin to Harold Handradi, the Viking genius. Victoria rolled Victoria’s dead weight off her as gently as she could. Like a mother, she cradled the back of her head so there would be no neck injury. She lay the head of Venus on her satin pillow. and, Victoria’s mouth came open………..just so…….as if she wanted to be kissed, in her dream. But, that was apart of their agreement. They would never kiss. They would save their kiss for their husbands.

Victoria began to follow Miriam into a very deed sleep, but as usual she loaded up a profound question that was raised when her then, bodyguard, told her about the course her mother and father taught at the University of Oregon. They had rescued old Russian Fairytales from Russia and the Eastern Bloc, that were being discarded, used as fuel for stoves. They then compared them to Western Fairytales, and Russian tales brought over by immigrants. They said they were doing what should have been done in Queen Victoria’s time, and, when WW2 was over. But, Stalin purged these tales. Why? Why have I am Miriam been brought together in Queen Victoria’s house?

Victoria did not know it then. but she had asked the question that would soon save their lives. In her dream, she heard a very sad song, and it went on, and on, and on! When she went to turn out the light, she noted a tear forming at the corner of Miriam’s eyes. She bent over, and kissed it away. This was a tear shed – in the future!

Venus is the goddess of love. In the beginning she opened the future up to all lovers. But, there was a reason why the Doors of Love had to be closed……..one by one! Miriam and Victoria cried, often because they felt a closure coming. Some things – are forbidden. Their collective tears kept the truth at bay.

John Presco

Copyright 2019

President: Royal Rosamond Press

An Ending

“I am going to kiss you now. Victoria opened her mouth just enough to match the beautiful open mouth of Miriam. She placed her lips upon her lips, as one would put a rose upon a freshly dug grave.

She was – right here, right there. And now she is somewhere else. But, not for me. My chance, our chance, is gone -so completely. How utterly unbearable, my being. So alone, all alone. Without her. I am left on the living side of death. Here, I must make my way.

I walk alone along the road. But I will never be alone. For thou art with me my love, on that road that runs on the dark side of the moon. You will go with me, her Lord, when I am in most need of her to be by my side. For she is with you, now. She knows the way.

Open Letter To Mr. Roozemond | Rosamond Press

All day long visions of my novel ‘The Royal Janitor’ overwhelmed me. I am experiencing a flood of creativity and inspiration. I now know what my book is about. I knew it would come to me if I stayed the course and trusted my inspiration. I was shown this opening scene. Turn down volume on first video.

This letter is still be composed.

Dear Roozemond. I was looking at your video today, and for one minute I beheld how great you are. I know your daughter wants to be great, too.

I believe most of the people of the world want to be seen as great. How can we, the people, bring that choice to the multitude……..today?

Lima Bean

by

Vincent Rosamond Rice

At 1:30 P.M. I found the world I have been a citizen of – and didn’t know it – and the identity of Kilgore Trout, one of my heroes. Four months ago I suggested my friend, Spooky Noodles, come in as Kilgore Trout. I had a fight with Charles Shields over Vonnegut’s relationship with the Jeferson Starship who wanted him to be in their ‘Blows Against The Universe’. Was Grace Slick aware of the work Phillip Jose’ Farmer who wrote Tarzan books? Farmer did a genealogy of James Bond?

Christine Wandel called me last night and wanted me to listen in on a radio show about computer chips put in the back of people’s head. I told her I wrote about Ruby Blaze meeting Old Lima Bean, a new-age Rip Van Winkle. Together they produce an elixur (made of Lima bean pods) that protects folks from Chem-Trails. I asked Spooky if her read Kurt’s ‘Cats Cradle’. I am the first author to employ real Rock Groups in science fiction and Grail legend. Will Sanatana come in contact with Rosamond Greystoke? Will the Charlatans discover a Time Machine in the desert? Will Ludwig Wittenstein become enamored of Kilgore Trout the same way he was of Norbert Davis who camped on a island with Black Mask authors, friends of The Rosamond Family? I have been set free of my natal family! Hurrah! I cam be as creative as I can be. My unlimited imagination – knows no bounds! I will pen a series….

JESUS ON MARS

VRR

On this day, December 16, 2021, I found the Lima Bean Brewery ‘The Home of Green Beer’.

My mother Rosemary Rosamond was the lover of one of the Lewis brothers who grew Lima Beans in Camarillo. She fed her four children Lima Beans – all the time! I like mine with ketchup. The Lima Bean is my family heritage, come down from Royal and Mary Magdalene Rosamond. Bless them!

Put a label of Lima Beans on a green bottle. There will be a embossed image of Saint Rosamond of Woodstock above the label.

Vincent Rosamond Rice

My mother, Rosemary, was born in Ventura, in 1926. She was the third daughter of four born to Mary Magdalene, and Royal Rosamond. Rosemary’s father was an author of three novels, and contributed to Out West and other early California magazines.

Rosemary married Victor Presco, and had four children, one who became a famous artist, known all over the world, as Rosamond.

Rosemary went to Ventura High School and dated March, a member of the Lewis family that grew lima beans in the Camarillo valley. March was in love with Rosemary till the day he died, and made sure she got this video when alas he left the beautiful life he lived.

That is Camarillo State hospital and an airport. The State of California purchased 1,776 acres from the Lewis family to build an asylum for the insane.

Rosemary was in the Waves, and left this world in 1997. Her four children are Mark, John, Christine, and Vicki. Rosemary’s movie can not be used for commercial purpouses without my permission. Historians, feel free to use this movie that is a window into a world, and a valley, that is no more. This is………….the last of the West.

For many years my hobby has been to render floor plans. There is a market for this. Many architects copyright their plans. For the last three years, I go on Zillow and search for homes in several cities. Two days ago, I found 101 California Avenue. I was home. This is where I want to live. This will be the home of Wandering Star Films – if I can complete a quick sale of Royal Rosamond Press – my newspaper that I am asking ten million dollars for.

101 California Avenue Santa Monica is a Million Dollar Address. From the balcony, bedroom, and living room, you can see where my first girlfriend, Marilyn, and I, fell asleep on the beach where we went almost every day in the summer. We were fifteen and sixteen. We walked across a bridge that spanned Highway 101, and took the No.3 Santa Monica bus, home. I have come home in these images. I will haunt this place when I die. But, today – I am reborn! The President and Director of Wandering Star Films, is…..

Vincent Rosamond Rice a.k.a. John Presco

On this day, July 6, 2018, I give new life to The Wandering Star Studio. I am now seeking backers for WSS in China, Japan, Canada, France, and England. I am going to ask David Lynch if he will represent my studio.

The United States of America, before it became a Nations, was made up of diverse peoples from all over the world. The Constitution does not describe a certain race of peoples as owners of this Freedom Land. It belongs to all citizens. The laws for being a citizen, and becoming a citizen have been established. However, there is always room for improvement.

It is becoming evident, that many people who voted for Donald Trump, did so believing he would grant them a special citizenship that is not mentioned in the U.S. Constitution. This idea is creating Disunity that grows each day, because it is being nurtured by propaganda. This propaganda is being spread to the rest of the world in Trump’s Trade Wars that no U.S. Citizen voted for, or, expected.

It is the mission of Wandering Star Studio to show how it took many diverse people to make up this great country of ours. Most of these people were not indigenous. they came here from all over the world, following a…………….Wandering Star!

Trade Wars are creating a very destruction Isolationtionism that will stifle our economy and our people. We will lose our creative edge that blossoms from open minds, verses closed minds. American and World Culture needs to explore new ways to work and create together so we may all own a Universal Culture that betters the lives of all people.

The Hollywood film industry has been a mecca for universal ideas that have made the world a better place to live. It survived the destructive wave of Nationalism in both World Wars. However, due to the need to show a profit with the high cost of movie making, our best ideas are being pushed to the wayside. We the People of the World are being deprived of the Wandering Star that has guided us. We can author better scripts to a better ending – and a better beginning to all our adventures and endeavors.

Conflict has never produced good results. A Universal Co-operation can create unapparelled change and prosperity. Let us open the great empty canvas that awaits our greater visions. We can see better through a universal lens, verses a lens that is dragged along the bitter feudal territory that never made anyone happy.

Jon Presco

President: Royal Rosamond Press

I found this letter two days ago on the Rosamond photo file I got several years ago. I could not make out the signature, and googled Sulphur Mountain and Santa Paula. This is a letter from the famous director, Gaston Melies, the brother of the even more famous director,  Georges Méliès.

I was in shock. I considered the thousands of hours of research I have done without receiving a dime, and now, at the bottom of the shaft of the mine I have dug for myself, I find a gem.  I now owned the engine that drove my grandfather, that kept him going forward, he never giving up. Did he tell everyone around him Gaston will make a movie from his story ‘The Finding of the Last Chance Mine’, one day? If not, there were plenty more stories where that came from – a veritable mother load!

Why wasn’t I told about this letter? Why didn’t my grandmother tell me she was Bohemian Grove Wood Nymph? The sad truth now hit home. Being a writer, a gambler, a poet, a drifter, a artist, and a free spirit, are not good things to be, especially when they are associated with ‘Being a Failure’. Royal Rosamond failed to strike it big, and take his Rosy family to Hollywood where they would be rolling in doe. Instead, Mary Magdalene Magdalene was forced to make hats in order to feed her four beautiful daughters – and her husband who took the pen name, Royal. This is why Mary told him not to come home when he failed to sign that book deal with Homer Croy who wrote ‘They Had to See Paris’ starring the most famous cowboy of the time, Will Rogers. Roy Reuben Rosamond, was all washed up. He was a has-been wannabe. This prospector never saw his beautiful wife, and his four daughters, again, but for my mother, Rosemary Rosamond, who went to Oklahoma City to see the abject failure, one last time. Roy had a newspaper stand and tutored young folk in the art of poetry.

If you are a creative person, you know for every star, there are a thousand souls who did not make to the Big Tent. In biographies of famous people you notice there is a creative group that surrounds them. If you are authoring a biography, you string connections together and hang them on a tree.

Francis Ford starred in Gaston’s movie ‘The Ghost of Sulphur Mountian’. Francis is the brother of the really famous director, John Ford, who is known for his Westerns. Roy Rosamond claimed he was a real Cowboy, so did Joaquin Miller who amused the Pre-Raphaelites and European Royalty with his Western garb.  This image was tailor-made for Miller by Ina Coolbrith the darling of the Bohemian Club. Then there is the Salon Jessie Fremont had in San Francisco that Mark Twain and Bret Harte attended. The Western Star is born. Now add to this the artwork of Thomas Hart Benton, and Christine Rosamond Benton, then you behold the core cultural movement in America, that left the East Coast, high and dry.

Last, but no least, is Jack London’s Last Chance Salon in Oakland, and Steinbecks ‘Grapes of Wrath’ that John Ford directed. Sprinkle in the Radical Republicans, who did battle with the folks that starred in ‘Birth of a Nation’ and what you get is gritty Westernized Socialism and a Commie Witchhunt.

I can now see my mother knew about this deal to secure her father’s story, and make sure Gaston owns the copyright. Rosemary flirted with the idea she would be a movie star, and once dated a B Actor named George. She used to show us his picture and ask;

“How would you kids have liked to have been George’s children and be born in Hollywood? He asked me to marry him. Instead, I married that SOB father of yours.”

Drats! Our story is tailor made for W.C. Fields who stepped on my aunts toes at a tennis match. This got the attention of Errol Flynn, who sent his friend over to give Lillian an invite, with phone number!

You see, it took over ten years to gather together my family history, because the women in the family had grown bitter – wrathful! Here is a video of the other man Rosemary should have married. His father owned a vast tract of Lima Bean fields in Camarillo, just east of the little town of Santa Paula where Gaston moved his movie company ‘Star Film Ranch’ in 1911. He was following a trend. Some say tis was the film capitol of California. The Rosamond household was not but twelve miles away at ‘Ventura by the Sea’. Did Gaston make a search of the local talent for his next movie?

Royal’s story appeared in West Coast Magazine. A similar story about a mine, along with ‘The Squaw Girl’, appeared in Out West magazine in 1911. There is mention of a “dramatic copyright’ which indicates Royal was writing with the movies in mind. This puts my grandfather at the epicenter of the first California Movie industry. Was he aware of the movie ‘The Squaw Man’ that Christine Rosamond’s first biographer mistakenly attributed to Roy? How much money did Tom Snyder receive for getting it wrong? That book did not sell, and was a abject failure. My daughter, her mother and aunt, and my surviving sister, backed this losing effort.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2014

The Royal Cactus Queen

by

Vincent Rosamond Rice

A Movie Idea For – The Wandering Star Film Company

Copyright 2021

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Roy, as his friends were want to call him, now that he talked some of them into getting into his 1941 Chevrolet, and barreling out into the Mojave Desert at a break-neck speed, that had Erl Stanly Gardener holding on the back of the driver seat, turning ashen white and giving Norbert Davis a look of utter disgust as he kept twirling his pistol – that he was sure would go off and put a bullet in the back of Dashiell Hammet’s head! Hammet and Royal Rosamond had sold the sailboat they bought, the proceeds going to fund Roy’s campaign to become a Socialist City Councilman of Ventura By The Sea. The four friends were on the campaign trail when Roy got a letter informing him his lost father had died in the town of Rosamond, and, he left him a gold mine that was next to the Cactus Queen Mine that recently struck paydirt. A little gold rush was on. In the minds of four authors, this was the Big Deal, the chance of a lifetime. Making money selling Pulp Fiction, was mind altering. Having Gold Fever, was a welcome relief.

“God damn it, Norbert! At least take your finger of the trigger!” Erle shouted.

Not too many women can say they are related to Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, and even look like her. When I saw the opening scene of The Liz Taylor Story I noticed that the actress looked like my daughter, my sister, and my mother. Then they show a house that looks like the house on Glendon Ave in Westwood, where the Presco family lived for three years. (top photo)

Celebrity Pool Party – A Play

by

Vincent Rosamond Rice

Copyright 2021

It was Bryan MacLean who suggested to James Bond they have a pool party at his house, and invite Elizabeth and Richard Burton, the actors James aced out of the home they wanted. The year is 1968. There is an uprising in Czechoslovakia. Leonid Brezhnev has amassed tanks on the border. When not giving instructions to his hired help, Bond is on a conference call to M16 in Britain. They want to know who is coming for a dip. Here are the guests that showed up that fateful day.

James Bond, Talitha and J. Paul Getty Jr. Ryan O’Neal, Andy Warhol and Edith, Lana Clark and Phil Spector, Liza Minelli and Barbara Streisand. Bryan and Arthur Lee, Peter Fonda and Steve McQueen, John and Irena the Acid Messiah of Height Ashbury, and his muse, the embodiment of Mary Magdalene. LIFE just did a layout on The Prophets of San Francisco, and many people in Europe were dare saying John looked like Jesus. The Hollywood Crowd were withholding their verdict. There was talk of The End of The World. The Cold War was about to turn – HOT!

James, anticipating Bryan was going to ask if his band, Love, could play at the party, hired his old friend, Christopher Lee, to play the baby grand by the pool and sing some British show tunes. Bond loathed Rock and Roll! When he came dressed as Dracula, the party went south, especially when Richard Burton and Lee started reciting George Bernard Shaw. Liza and Barbara tried doing a happy duet, but, a dark pall came over the celebrity crowd – full of potence! Arthur Lee got behind it, and wrote a flurry of new songs. Then….The Acid Messiah went into a trance…..and began channeling.

Celebrity Pool Party may turn into a musical when this Bohemian gathering hears Soviet troops have invaded the Land of Bohemia. Ryan puts on a pair of boxing gloves as Barbara and Liza begin a duet that others join in on. Phil Specter rages about hitting them with a Wall of Sound as a orchestra rises above the infinity pool with the dazzling lights of downtown LA behind them. Then, here come the La Bo Bollywood Dancers. There is talk about imminent nuclear war. Arthur Lee steps forward with new and rousing words to Seven and Seven Is.

“This is it! Say NO to tyranny!”

Victoria

by

Vincent Rosamond Rice

Copyright 2021

Victoria Mary Prather had made up her mind as she walked into her and her husband’s bank in Redmond Oregon. She was going to empty their joint account, and make a run for it to California with her son, Shamus. They had packed several suitcases. They were no going to take much. Ken Prather had really gone over the edge, and was making insane threats. She had to hold him down when he wanted to beat her brother, Greg, to death with a ballpeen hammer. He got out of there as fast as he could. Shamus’s uncle, Michael Dundon, took him into their home in Blue River. He and his wife could not believe he was charged $250 dollars to live in a closet. Greg was also charged another $250 dollars for food. A year earlier, they had posed together at their sister’s house in Woodland Hills – where two years earlier the famous artist known as Rosamond – had given her brother credit for her success, and, generously offered to teach him her style, so he could be rich and famous, too! When Vicki heard her brother turned Rosamond down, she was incredulous. She would have taken that offer in a heartbeat!

“God damn it! Why wasn’t I born with any talent?” Vicki said as she muttered under her breath. But, her lips were moving, shuddering as they were want to do when she got nervous. And she was very nervous far too long, ever since she, Ken, and her father, Victor Presco, got caught high in the Silver Commodity game. Ken had extra strength shocks put on his station wagon, because it looked like they would have to go collect their silver – and put it where? They would be hauling around Captain Vic’s share, too. They made jokes about burying their loot. But where?

“How about the high desert in Oregon?”

Barely escaping this scenario, there was now the huge problem of concealing their profits from the IRS. Vic was a private lender and had his plan that he shared with his son-in-law. Ken and Vicki ended up buying two homes in Redmond, that were off the radar. Checks were signed with a special blue pen. Ken had worked with computers until he drove off the freeway into a tree after another one of his seizures. When he blacked out – he was extremely dangerous.

Leaving the bank with a large sum of cash in her old beach bag, the youngest daughter of Rosemary Presco, wanted to break into a run. She had put herself in a rage by comparing how Rosemary’s two daughter had turned out. Her eldest, Christine Rosamond Presco, was the world-famous artist ‘Rosamond’, while her youngest had married a lunatic with knife scars all over his body that he got when he fought in a gang in Fairfield California. This monster forced her to become a -criminal! She knew he would kill her – for stealing his money that she had worked hard for. The abuse she and her son had to endure – was over the top! On several occasions she let Christine and her oldest brother, Mark Presco, know she was in deep trouble. But, these siblings were doing very well, and they gave Vicki the impression getting involved would bring them bad luck. After all, they endured the same abuse from Vic and Rosemary, even worse, because they lived with both raging alcoholics – longer. Vic was forced out of his home after Rosemary stabbed him in the forehead – when Vicki was six.

“If Christine had helped me, I would not have had to do this!” Vicki said to her twelve year old son. “Now our lives – are in real danger!” Victoria cried as she put the car in gear, and got the hell out of Redmond. Shamus held on tight to the beach bag full of cash that Rosamond came to own a few years later when his mother entered into a partnership formed with Vic’s inheritance from his mother. Christine rendered four images for this partnership. Victoria was now…..a big player in the Art World.

Four days ago my niece Shannon called me, and deeply cried for the loss of her aunt Vicki, who she came to learn – utterly betrayed her! I will be telling the story of this betrayal from the world view of my youngest sister who betrayed all members of our family – because she was on survival mode! Vicki was not an artist or writer – but a real criminal who did much damage to the creativity family legacy.

The work of Disney Artist, Eyvind Earle, hung in the Rosamond Gallery in Carmel. Eyvind illustrated ‘Sleeping Beauty’. Instead of this being the major theme in continuing the artistic legacy of Rosamond, everything became about Vicki Presco, and what she did not get. She got the Rosamond partnership prints from Christine’s house – the very day she drowned! Her and Shamus Dundon –  stuffed Grandma’s American Rambler with them! The Grimm Brothers named Sleeping Beauty ROSAMUND-ROSAMUND.

The Roof Job

A Collaberation

by

Christine Wandel, Peter Shapiro, and John GREGory Presco.

Copyright 2021

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

For months I and Peter Shapiro have been bantering about an idea for a musical called ‘The Roof Job’. Christine Wandel needs a new roof that the dude she bought her house from, may be responsible for. Ricco had bought new roofing material that is still in the attic. This morning I read a war of words between the Chinese and Team Bohemia – because we Beats still got a dog in hunt thanks to the discussion I am having with two Heads that lived with me at Thirteenth Street. I think I’m going to write Congressman Peter DeFazio and see if he can get us funding to make a New Cold War Musical. In this prophetic discussion Peter says we need Star Power. A month later Christine announces she had a kid by Ruben Blades, the Champion of Latino Native Americans. On Friday the New Westside Story will premiere in theatres. We are already – on it!

Christine got close with Stefan Eins, and then they had a famous falling out. She calls him a Fake Artist, a Total Fraud. The Democrats and Republican are conducting The Fraud Wars that make Chinese Propaganda sound – IMPOTENT! I invented Johnny Evil to be the Guest Star on the Roof Job. Johnny is the worst musician that ever lived. He is – REAL BAD! He’s just – FAKING IT! That Ruben suggests he should have won the Nobel Prized, and not Bob Dylan – was prophetic.

When I lived at the ‘Idle Hands’ commune with Nancy Hamren and the Zorthian sisters, Nan’s friend Jeff came to live with us. He was the enforcer for his father’s bail bond company in Sacramento. He was extremely bad-ass and made Keith and I play guitar with him – while stoned on acid! We were not very good. We had no choice. There was the real possibility he would beat us up, if we – quit!

Vincent Rosamond Rice

GREG: Sep 7. Pay attention. Ricco made that hole in Christine’s ceiling when he went up in the attic to remove roofing material. I solved the riddle. My grandfather was a good friend of Dashiell Hammett and other detective writers. Rico had not time to fix the hole before Christine came home so he gaslighted her. This very long chat needs to be made into a small book. Cut and paste it then send it to me.

PETER: can do. need $1,300 startup. how about “rent a rabbi” venture – you lead the 6 month training curse.

GREG: Send me the text and I will put us next to Michael MacLure who taught poetry around the corner of the art center the Zone played at on College. This is huge. You will see why.”

PETER: Sep 7. we need some name recognistion to jump star this. eins? someone from thirtheeth street who go famus. steve kupka? steve dowler? bob kridle? babananda james? harry bassett? hairy j? johnny joe? jimmy john? jumpin jimmy/ vinnie the blade? vinie the chin? ronald reagan? the donald?

Peter Shapiro was born in Boston. His father was a professor at MIT. Pete is married to a Japanese woman, and has no children. We have an extended family. The Mel Lyman family lived on Fort Hill that was up the street from our commune in Roxbury. James Harkins and I lived there. James and his two brothers were good friends of Peter who had a Mafia mystique about him that comes from living back East, and, playing with early bands that fought the system – like the Mel Lyman Family did! I want a Guys And Dolls element in The Roof Job. Thomas Pynchon employs Charlie Manson in one of his books. Bryan MacLean knew “Crazy Charlie”. Consider the move Zabriskie Point. I’m going to have Mark and Daria come to Wilkes-Barre and ask if they can get in on The Great Roof Raising Event.

VRR

Around 2:30 P.M. on Christmas Day, I opened my computer and showed Marilyn my post ‘Christmas with Eutrophia’. No sooner did she see the top photo, Mariliyn says;

When my sister Christine was nine, and my sister Vicki, was five, they saw a blue angel standing at the foot of Christine’s bed. I just found this photo of an angel over the head of Mother Dominica, the cousin of my grandmother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond.

And angel appeared above me just before I died. The fight I have with Patrice Hanson, is, she claims the light that surrounded OUR daughter, came from her mother that was like a guardian angel. Wrong! This angel and light comes from the Wieneke family who entered the Order of Saint Francis. That angel guarded MY daughter from the fake father, Randal Delpiano. Why wasn’t there an angel to protect Patrice’s two sons – that I took in to get them away from Randall? This alleged angel-mother did not stop her daughter from bonding with a criminal.

Heather can keep this angel and light, as long as she admits it comes via her real father, and HIS family! The Order is always looking for new members amongst the Wieneke and Starks, because Nuns and Fathers do not produce children. Heather was a candidate – before she was born!

I awoke this morning reciting the poison scene from The Princess Bride. I had written something eloquent and used Iiocane as a means to explain the dilemma I have been ever sense Christine Wandel told me she was certain that Ruben Blades is Julie’s father. This was two days before she was going to have Thanksgiving Dinner with Ruben’s daughter. They were going to go to the Washington Square Diner, but, Julie canceled. Christine had me email Ruben, but, no response. I wanted to go with full disclosure – from the get – because I know Christine. We would end up at a round table with two goblets playing a guessing game……What is real? Compared to what?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sawtelle,_Los_Angeles

After several calls, where I was bid to change the dictated email, I posted the final version on Ruben’s Facebook – for the whole world to see! I took a cue from Ruben’s son, replicated what he went through to get his father to acknowledge he has sired a child!

“There! It’s done! The whole world will soon know the truth!”

“What did you do?” Christine asked. I told her.

“Remove it. You are invading my privacy!”

I told Cristine invading folk’s privacy – is unavoidable! You have to tell Julie. Leave a message on her phone. We now talked about – not hurting Blade’s daughter.

“Perhaps it’s better she doesn’t know?”

Night before last Christine gave me permission to write about Ruben Blades on this blog-newspaper. She told me that one of her grandsons looks like Ruben. This – changed everything. Do we all own the right to know who are people are? Ninety million people are obsessed with genealogies. Remember the series ‘Roots’ ? I have been looking at newspapers about Ruben, his son, and his daughter. Ruben says he does not want to make a big deal about it. He does not want to elaborate on the matter. However, he does talk about his Englich father. Christine heard this in 1975. She was not aware of Ruben’s Latino Race – as much as Ruben – is! It was no big deal.

What is a BIG DEAL….Ruben had an affair by a Saxon Woman, and, she became pregnant? Christine and I concluded Ruben had reasons to cover this up, and, Julie could get hurt by realizing how powerless she is. The truth would not set her free, but, imprison her. For this reason I am going to send this story to other newspapers that covered the other child of Ruben – Julies half-brother!

Millions of people can relate to being told to stay out of certain neighborhoods. West Side Story is a famous movie and play about this command. Today is the world premiere of Spielberg’s Story. I am going to purchase a ticket. The original Story was life-changing for me. Months after I saw Westside, I fell in love with a Mexican girl named, Maria, who was in my English class. Her friends knew I had a crush on her, but, I was incredibly shy to the point I admitted I was mentally ill. I wrote poems to other women in other classes. Maria may have heard me recite one of my poems. The last day of school, she approaches me. We are alone in the classroom. I want to kiss her. It is mutual. Our moment, gone, Maria hands me a paper with her address on it.

“Come to my birthday party!”

I almost fainted. My friend Bill drove me to the address that was in the Bad Part of Town. We stopped up the street. There were about ten Mexican teenagers standing on the steps to a Victorian. Some were wearing colorful shirts. I asked Bill of he would come with me, but, that could be trouble. Best I go alone. Being a visual artists and poet, I made several movies of me walking down the street – and up those stairs. How would I be received? A year later this would be a painting. Here is a photograph of my ex-wife, Mary Ann Tharaldsen, walking towards my neighbors in the Mexican neighborhood I lived in. Mary Ann lived with Thomas Pynchon in Mexico.

It was my adopted mother, June Rice, who told me not to go……into the Sawtelle. I detected there were racial reasons. My famiy had just moved to LA. What I heard next, was chillling.

“And don’t go into those theatres. A pervert will stick an icepick in your ear and molest you!”

I was a virgin. I wanted to lose my virginity to Maria. I did not go to her party. I know this morning she kept looking for me. She told her brothers to look out for me, and make sure nothing bad happens to me.

I was sixteen and a student at University High School in West Los Angeles, when a Mexican girl in my class handed me a folded note and asked me to give it to my friend, Mark Owen, who I met at his birthday party that Bryan MacLean took me to. It was Mark who noticed these two girls that were following us after school – that he said were interested in us.

“I want the blonde! You can have the other one!” Mark said. Mark got crazy drunk at his party, and his father gave him a prostitute to sleep with. I was still a virgin. I gave the note from Marilyn to my best friend, and off…….into the Sawtelle he went. I set up my easle, and began a new painting. An hour later Mark comes in the door, and hands me the note I handed him.

“This was meant for you!” Mark said.

I just now realize I dreamed about writing and reading this post. What had happened was, the girl who handed me the note was a good friend of Judy, the other girl walking with Marilyn. Judy wanted me, and heard about Marilyn’s note to me. She asked her friend to do a switch! Here is the scene from the Princess Bride that resembles Romeo and Juliet.

“She wants to see you – now!” And off I go into the Sawtelle.

Below is a photo of the son of Carlos Moore with his arm around me. Carlos wrote the biography of Fela that he later sold to producers who made it into a musical. He was married to Shawna, Marilyn’s half-sister, who lived with Les McCann’s drummer. Shawna gave my first girlfriend a black doll. M knew Bryan who formed the first mixed-race rock band. Peter Shapiro was a member of The Loading Zone who hired a black female singer. Peter was close with members of The Tower of Power, a mixed-race group. Love later became an all black band and celebrated Black is Beautiful.

Christine knew very little about Julie’s father, so I filled her in. She met Ruben at The Bottom Line where her friend, Bill Graham, took her to see The Tower of Power. She was not happy about the Nobel Prize article that seemed to do a switch, saying Ruben deserved that prize, and not Bob Dylan. Now, here is the bottom line that came to me – in a dream…..

One is not worthy of a Nobel Prize for how well you get along – with your race – but how well you get along – with other races!

There is no cure – for love!

John Presco

Into The Sawtelle

by

Vincent Rosamond Rice

I cried as I watched Spielberg’s West Side Story – a good deal! When this new version finally got going – there was no escaping – the pain! I knew what was coming. I knew my Shakespeare. This story is – gripping. Maria was perfectly cast. Her large eyes were two lenses into two worlds. Natalie Woods had those big eyes.

I hope we hear all the casting details – someday – and the argument Steven had with the Art Director. There had to be many – heated discussions – because I could not tell the temperature of New York – seconds into this very good movie! In the original, you knew it is summertime from way up in the helicopter. Then – smack – you are thrown on the street. NEVER put signs and words to read at the beginning of a movie. We don’t go to the movies to get a lesson. Our tears – are full of lessons. We go to this movie – to cry!

When my family first moved to West Los Angeles, I did the painting of our street, Midvale. We lived a hundred yards from Santa Monica Boulevard. It was a hundred degrees for several days straight. I deduced Rosemary moved her four children – to hell!

I was the best dancer at Oakland High. About fifty students formed a circle around me as I did my choregraphed version of The Pony. I danced for a half-hour before school, and when I got home. At sixteen, I danced the Bolero for Marilyn on her sixteenth Birthday. I took my shirt off, because I knew I was going to sweat allot. My love had stolen my large painting of Jesus walking across the hot desert. I was a great walker. I seldom had money for the bus. I would put myself in a trance – and create! I wrote poems, and philosophized. I was always in a movie.

Vincent Rosamond Rice

A week ago I talked with a friend about making a movie about the attempt by Puerto Rican radicals to assassinate, President Truman. I deduced it would be too radical – and cause racial tensions. Then I saw the new West Side Story being advertised. I saw it last night. It opens with the Jets stealing cans of paint, then smearing it over a Puerto Rican flag mural.

In the pic of the red truck you see my close, friends. Starting in the left, is Tony Puig who grandmother was involved in the attempt on Harry’s. Tony grew up in Harlem and was a radical in college. We played cards while he told me his amazing stories of survival, how he had to travel through different neighborhoods, that had hostile gangs. He talked about playing Bayamon in the New York streets.

George would come over on Sunday and watch football. He formedd a bond with David, the son of the Black Panther that died in a fire in Chicago. We went to hismother’s birthday party, where she asked me to dance.

“Do you know how to do The Bump?”

“Teach me!”

She would declare me the best Bumper she ever saw.

Joe lived in the Presidential car at the Harrison Park as a caretaker. They tore down his grandfather’s house to put in the Nimitz freeway, which turned Joe into a extreme radical. When two men from the City came to evict Joe, he threw the bodily off the train. When George came to talk to his dead friend, Joe tied him up to a chair. There was a standoff.

“Did you hear Joe took George hostage?”

“Gentle George!? What did he do?”

I was the only Gringo in the group until the actor Paul Drake moved upstairs from Cal Iwamota who fought with the Haoles in Hawaii. I met Mary Ann through my Mexican neighbor who had two activist sons in the Fruitvale. Joe got a job fixing some property in a dangerous area of Oakland, where I made an exit from when I got sober.

That’s my father playing chess with his best friend, Ernie Quinones, in his apartment in downtown Oakland. I didn’t know how much my father owned this city. Vic was always in his bathrobe, making loans over the phone. When his pole would dip, we got to see Mr. Smooth in action, as he reeled in his latest victim. Captain Vic was convicted of Loan Sharking in 1964.

Above is a photo of (left to right) John Presco, Peter Shapiro, Tim O’Connor and his girlfriend, Keith Purvis. Susan’s father was Marlon Brando’s agent. We are on a bridge in Venice California where I met Rena Easton. I spotted our car a minute into West Side Story. Spielberg should found a museum.

Vincent Rosamond Rice

On this day in 1950, two Puerto Rican pro-independence militants, Oscar Collazo and Griselio Torresola, attempted to assassinate President Harry S. Truman. From 1948 to 1952, Truman and his family lived in Blair House, on the north side of Pennsylvania Avenue near the White House, while the executive mansion underwent extensive renovations.

At 2 p.m., the would-be assassins walked up to Blair House’s front steps and began shooting. Private Leslie Coffelt, a Secret Service uniformed officer, was mortally wounded but managed to return fire and kill Torresola.

After living in West Los Angeles for two years I became homesick for the Bay Area. In the summer of 64 I did a large painting, about, 40 X 60 inches. It was inspired by the duck hunting shacks in the mud flats to your right when you get on the Bay Bridge from Emeryville. When Bill and I were fourteen, we tried to get out to one of these shacks by throwing boards in front of us to keep us from sinking in the mud. We went about two hundred yards, when a big burly man appear on the deck of one shack, and with hands on his hips, growled;

“Now that your worked this hard to get here, you can go back the way you came.”

He was like the ghost of Wolf Larsen. We questioned him. He said these shack belonged to an old duck hunting club whose name escapes me.

In a little floating shack near shore we found a coffee can. We built a fire and boiled some muscles, and ate them. Bill said we must be prepared to survive as artists and poets, when we are forced to flee from our ancient enemies. His father was attending a function on the Oakland Army base, he a retired career officer. We took off, and were late getting back.

LA was so sterile, and new. So were the people. I missed the old wood, the tires captured in the mud. I saw them as works of art – before the Emeryville Mudflat Artists put on a wonderous show that lasted many years before the Bay Area became LA-botimized, sterilized, and monified.

Jon Presco

I have claimed I am in touch with an angel, and, have been feeling out of touch, lately. I was feeling distracted from world events by Christine wanting to have her daughter and Ruben Blanes have a blood test to prove fraternity. I have spent months on The Roof Job, and Peter Shapiro was feeling left out of the loop in the last two weeks. We had talked about getting Star Power, but, I was now afraid of intimidating my old friend with – A Super Star! The Loading Zone was the only Fillmore band that didn’t make it big. Saturday, Peter threatened to quit the project.

PETER: Saturday 7:20 P.M. “I’m shutting this pony show down brother.”

I went to be early Sunday night, and woke at 11:44 – laughing! Peter made me laugh at the end of a long day of texting about Lima Bean – after I let him know we had changed course and our show had grown  higher and bigger – like a bean stalk, We got really stoked and were texting about our road trips in a Dodge. I told him about Robert Delanao hitting the No-Doz real hard so he coould lay his best rap on Rena – the most beautiful girl in the World. He deliberately did not tell me he could not drive a stick – just to get in the car with her all the way to Nebraska! Robert did a album cover for Santana.

GREG: How many rock bands rejected their album cover artist. Thy insulted him at length. Robert told me all about it. I wish I was there.”

PETER: The bigger concern, is, where is Mr. Delano now. I may have an artistic job for him now!”

GREG: Ha! Ha! Yes. We find the old hermit and Santana gives him a second shot. A easel is set up on stage while they perform. Google Denny Dent. He was a early friend of ours.

12 A.M. “I awoke with the ending of our movie thanks to you wanting to give Roberto a second chance. It’s midnight. I hear Black Magic Woman. Musicians seldom get it right on the first take. Carlos is still alive. We can get the Zone, the Power, and maybe Blades with Santana for the climax.”

I went searching for a live video of Santana singing live – and found this! This is a miracle! This is a concert against APARTHEID. Look!…..The Brothers of Color are SEPERATED from the mostly white audience……………………..AND THERE IS FELA!

I think my Angel is saying there should be world-wide concerts against racism. 

VRR

Lima Bean

by

Vicent Rosamond Rice

Copyright 2021

NOTES – for a series and movie about the Lima Bean Prophecy. I posted the following at 10:20 A.M. and listened to the video of Rico Fonseca. If I had coffee in my mouth – I would have spit it out onto my computer when Rico said;

“I’m from Lima Peru!”

I texted Peter last night and told him we have a Grail story. Tortilla Flat is a Grail story. I told Pete there was a special path of Lima beans in Camarillo that produce a magic bean that makes the affects of Chem Trails go away. If Ruben does not want to be in Lima Bean – we may have a replacement.

When Rico was put on the boat to America, his parents gave him a pot of Lima Beans and told them they are very special beans.

“Go plant them in the valley of your ancestor in California and raise a large family that will be a dyansty one day.”

Did Rico listen? No. He wanted to be a Beatnik Artist in the Village where he befriended Christine and her daughter Julie. Some books, write themselves. Here is a pic of Peter and the musician, Tim O’Connor, who lived with me in a Alameda Victorian, where Peter planted gourds, as he was want to do in the backyard of all his friends. He was in the business of making Kalimbas. Ijust posted this on Rico’s Facebook;

“Rico! I too am a artist. I taught my sister how to paint and she became world famous. I just listened to your video again, and am amazed to learn you are from Lima Peru. The Mayan gods have been good to you. They bid you to be extra kind to Christine and Julie. You Villagers are going to be in my story.”

FLASH! Peter Shapiro and I just exchanged these messages:

PETER: 11:03 A.M. Dec 13, 2021. “ill back a “back to the 60’s” festival on my campgrounds.

Laying Claim To The Literary History of Ventura County

by

Vincent Rosamond Rice

Here is a writer for the LA Times declaring there is no Literary History in Ventura County. I beg to differ – because I know better! My Aunt Lillian told me she saw her father, Royal Rosamond, typing in the living room with Erle Stanley Gardener.

“My father taught him how to write!”

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1993-06-10-vl-1534-story.html

Did Lillian mean Royal taught Erle how to type? My aunt told me that her mother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond went to Ojai to visit her friends in the Theosophic Society. Did they have their library, yet? Then there is the Meher Baba retreat. I read God’s book ‘God Speaks’.

McClory was romantically involved with Elizabeth Taylor. Although he and Taylor reportedly had plans to marry, Taylor would eventually leave him for her future husband Mike Todd. Todd and McClory fell out over Taylor yet they managed to complete the final cut of the film side by side. The trio would eventually reconcile and they remained friends until Todd’s untimely death in 1958.[8][9]

MGM and Danjaq have acquired all of the rights and interests in James Bond held by the estate of Kevin McClory, ending more than 50 years of litigation between the producers of the franchise and an author who penned Bond scripts with Ian Fleming.

MGM, ‘James Bond’ Producer End Decades-Long War Over 007

O.K. This seals the deal.  I got to get busy promoting myself. I am going to contact Don King and see if he can get me in a ring with Franklin on pay-per-view! I want five mill.

I am destined to write a great Bond Novel. It is in my family tree! I declare authoring a Bond book – my rosy families Art Form and Religion! Liz almost married Kevin McClory. Would one of their children have married a Getty?

Every day I see a Liz and Bond story on google news – along with our kindred! We are the alternative reality to Putin, Trump & Graham who hate my people – and Hollywood! Why is that? I will unveil our Family Cosmology that hopefully will replace Christianity. Justine Lovesit sounds like Miriam Starfish Christling who grew up in Christian Nudist Colonies.

I have written myself into ‘The Royal Janitor’. I am ‘The Wizard’ who administers the final pseudo-psychological Loyalty Check – I invented – for membership in BAD, employing a Babe Ruth baseball, if you are a male, and a stuffed Unicorn, if you are a female. How candidates handle me is the real test, conducted by the panel behind the one-way mirror.

All my distractors and false accusers have been vanquished. A unseen hand has led me to discover the Love between Kevin and Liz, so I can go on with my story – with my head held high! I am a certified Bond Author, blessed by my ROSE DNA.

The G on my white cap stands for………..GANDALPH! In spirit, Shadowfax will replace my beloved felines, Greyhaven and Brembe.

John Presco

‘Family Bond Author’

This extremely rare photo of the first west coast Black Mask get-together on January 11, 1936 captures possibly the only meeting of several of these authors.

Pictured in the back row, from left to right, are Raymond J. Moffatt, Raymond Chandler, Herbert Stinson, Dwight Babcock, Eric Taylor and Dashiell Hammett. In the front row, again from left to right, are Arthur Barnes (?), John K. Butler, W. T. Ballard, Horace McCoy and Norbert Davis.

Rosemary told me her father, Royal Rosamond, used to sail to the Channel Islands and camp with his friend, Dashiell Hammett who is seen standing on the right in the photo above.

Aunt Lillian told me she would fall asleep listening to Royal and Erle Stanley Gardner on the typewriter in the living room. Royal was Gardner’s teacher and a member of the Black Mask. I believe I can almost recoginize Black Mask authors under the tree on Santa Cruz Island sitting under a tree with my grandmother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond, who does not look very happy as she embraces a black dog. Who is that woman? Is she a writer? She looks a bit crazed, as does the guy holding a gun. Is Mary hearing some far-out and weird ideas around the campfire?

When I was fifteen Rosemary showed me about six magazines wherein her father’s stories appeared. There were several mysteries. I am going to send the camping photo to some experts. That looks like Raymond Chandler in front of the tent. Is he the guy packing heat?

Hammett wrote the Maltese Falcon that begins with a story about the Knight Templars. Was this a tale passed around the campfire on Santa Cruz Island?

Jon Presco

Copyright 2013

t could be said artists are not so much interested in living a meaningful life, but, dying a meaningful death. Our enemies rendered the life of the artist, Christine Rosamond Benton, meaningless, because, they have no death scene. This is because we are a part of The Never Ending Story that is forever writing itself. We get glimpses, now and then. Sometimes we behold the full Monty!

We are The Ancient Sea Wendlings. We learned Alchemy from John Dee, and came to California with Sir Francis Drake.

It is time for a New Renaissance. I beseech business men and women to put down the club of the Neanderthal, and take an artist and poet to lunch.

This is it! We have arrived!

Jon Presco

Christine Rosamond Benton was my beloved sister. When she came north for a visit she was reading Tolkiens Trilogy that she could not put down. This prompted our friend, Keith Purvis, to say;

“Too bad she can not see those books are real.”

Keith was once Christine’s lover. He descends from the O’Neil Kings of Ireland and is a British subject. Keith was with me when I died on McClure’s Beach, just after I read Tolkien’s Trilogy that us hippies made famous. When we climbed that rock, I saw it as the mountain of doom that I must cast the Ring of Invsibility into so that what is Good and True could become manifest and oversome the war lords of darkness. I was at the vanguard of the peace movement that was real and changed the world. This is true history that I was at the vanguard of. I am entitled to record this spiritual history as I see fit.

If you take four books and shuffle them together, you get the hidden story I am destined to author. You can say the Atlanteans have written the One Book, and placed it at the four corners of the world so the Rose Master can find them and bring them together and make them one with the NAME. This is the Master’s Test, so you can see what we have seen, and see forever………….The Rose Kingdom of Truth!

The House of Wolfen – by William Morris
The Orea Linda Book – author unknown
The Proto-James – author unknown
The Roza Mira Prophecy – Andreev

Here is the actor that played Tommy’s father playing Jesus. The priests tell the mob to take the woman accused of adultery to “The Master”. Why are they calling him “master” if they hate him and plot his death?

The answers if, he is a Nazarite Judge, and is perhpas being tested by the priests to see if he knows the rule of judgeing a Sotah. These rules were written in raised gold letters on the templa wall, they a gift of Queen Helena. In the book of James, Anna, the grandmother of Jesus, is bid to drink bitter waters for she is with child while her husband was away. Only I have figured out what Jesus wrote in the dust. He wrote the name of God in the dust, and put this dust in a cup. He then bid the Sotah to drink.

Christine and I died by the beautiful sea. We are Atlanteans, a lost kingdom that rose from the sea. This is our story.

Above are two Dutch Renaissance paintings that depict our acnestors who are linked to the Merovignians. No one can point to their kindred in works of art rendered five hundred years ago, and say they are linked to Arthruian Legend, the Merovingians, and the Holy Grail. This is my discovery made since Christine died in 1994. My family knew nothing. All this was invisible to them. Now, it is manifest, and, will be in the light – forever!

How many painting in the world depict a group of related men in the presence of Jesus and his mother, Mary? This suggests they are kindred.

Jon Rosamond Presco

Copyright 2012

Jon, John, Jhon, Jan, are all the same name, though the pronunciation varies, as
the seamen like to shorten everything to be able to make it easier to call. Jon
– that is, “Given” – was a sea-king, born at Alberga, who sailed from the
Flymeer with a fleet of 127 ships

As conceived by Andreev, the Rose of the World will become the highest manifestation of the feminine soul of the universe. This global religious and social organization is destined to overcome.

“Morris preferred to preserve his freedom of invention. His solution was brilliantly simple: the story is one told by the descendants of the Wolfings many years later, and as with the Saga of the Volsungs, events have become garbled with retelling.”
Above we see the oldest dutch painting in existence. It show four generations of the Rover family who maired into the Rosemondt family, thus creating a kindred that worshipped Saint Ann, the mother of Mary, and the grandmother of Jesus. Anna was barren and could not concieve, thus, she took the Vow of the Nazarite, as did her namesake, Hanna, from which the name Anna is taken. Our Sweet Lady is Anna. Members of the Rover and Rosemondt family were named after wolves. Roeland is Rolland, the norseman, from who many Franch Kings descend. As a Nazarite I have come to bring France back to God. Repent!
Above we see Da Vinci’s painting of Anna who was worshipped during his life with the appearence of The Protoevangelium of St. James
that is very possiblly fiction written in modern times. However, it reveals much of my study of the Nazarites that now includes the Sea-Rover Knights of the Swan Brethren. I was born to tell this Wolfen Tale – that involves the artwork of Bosch and Da Vinci who knew about the worship of Anna selbdritt that has remained hidden for over 500 years.
Arise my children of the Rose Wolf! Arise! For here come the Roman legions of Romnyus and Ryanus – the drunken Bubbas of the Red States – to slaughter the aged, the infirmed, and the disenfranchised. Lady Liberty will give thee her famous protection, the protection of Anna the Nazarite.

“That is what we know; but nothing in that information reveals where Bosch got the inspiration for his paintings from. One clue, however, is that Bosch was a member of a religious brotherhood, to which he and his grandfather had belonged. Indeed, his own wife had become a member at the age of 16. Bosch himself joined the highly respected Brotherhood of Our Lady (Illustre Lieve Vrouwe Broederschap te ‘s-Hertogenbosch), also known as the Swan Brothers, in 1488. The organisation is often described as a sect, or an arch-conservative religious group, but this does little honour to the past and importance of the organisation.

The Miracle Statue of the brotherhood

The brotherhood was founded in 1318, by one Gerardus van Uden, though it is possible that it existed before and that its existence was only formalised in 1318. Originally, membership was reserved for priests and monks, but it soon opened its doors and allowed women and laymen.
The sacred home of the brotherhood was its side chapel on the north side of the St John’s Cathedral and Bosch had various commissions for this chapel. It was also the location of the so-called “Mirakelbeeld”, the Miracle Statue, a statue of the Virgin Mary that was found in 1380, allegedly in a corner of the cathedral. Art historians believe the figure was carved between 1280 and 1320, roughly contemporary with the foundation of the order that would embrace and promote the statue’s worship. Some have argued the statue was not found, but “made public” by the order, so that what was once private worship, would attract interest from the general public. If so, they succeeded.

When Bosch was buried in August 1516, the ceremony was carried out with the usual regards due to members of the order. What made him become a member of the order? Some might argue it was his marriage, but his grandfather, Jan Van Aken, had also entered the order in 1430. He is not only listed as a member, but it also employed him as a restorer and painter.
Jeroen’s first entry on the membership list is in 1486, as a “buitenlid”, an “outer member”, to become a sworn brother in 1488. Shortly afterwards, he was the guest of honour on the so-called swan meal, in which a swan was offered – and apparently eaten. Custom required members to be tonsured, which Bosch did, and he took to wearing the curious homespun garments, a derivative of the costume worn by ecclesiastics. The brotherhood was also known to perform mystery plays and other theatrical productions and it is known that Bosch played an active role in stage performances and religious ceremonies. Hence, the grotesque faces that are so prominent in some of his paintings, are sometimes said to be inspired by the masks the actors used in these stage productions.
Though Bosch was hence an acknowledged member of the town – only ca. forty people were allowed membership in the brotherhood”

If she is twelve years old, Maria by the high priest married to Joseph, a widower at age. Joseph has children and is contractor. He may only protect Mary. Immediately after the marriage he leaves for several months to a construction job. Maria is meanwhile pregnant of God. As Joseph comes home he sees that Mary is expecting. Also the high priest comes to know. Mary and Joseph have to undergo the trial with the bitter water, but endure that gloriously. Jesus is born in a cave on their way to Bethlehem . A midwife notes, that Mary is still Virgin .
[Edit] Origin and influence
The unknown author of the birth of Maria calls himself James, a son from the first marriage of Joseph. He does it as if he witnessed the birth of Jesus. The author leans in his story very strong on great Biblical figures as Abraham, Sara and Hanna and Elkana, and works the stories about the birth of Jesus from the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.
This creates a new story, that has had great influence on the people’s devotion and also through this detour on the theological thinking about Mary. In later centuries, the legend further expanded. Not only Joseph, but Maria is descended from King David: both of fathers and mothers side is Jesus of Royal blood. That is in later times (iconographic) exemplified in the tree of Jesse. In the thirteenth century is the story of the three marriages of Anna. She was twice widowed, remarried each and got a daughter from each marriage. Thus arose the family of Anna, who calls the kindred .
[Edit] Worship
The worship of Anna begins in the fifth/sixth century in the Middle East and is coming soon to the West (Venice and Rome). It reaches its peak in the fifteenth and sixteenth century. At that time, creates a very special picture Anna selbdritt: Anna with Mary and Jesus. Especially In the 15th century depicted as woman on her arm a girl (Maria), who wears a small child (Jesus). Around 1600 Maria and Anna are often on a couch, while Jesus as small child between them. Anna has often a book or a fruit in her hand.
Many of these images are to be found in museums, but also in churches and chapels.
The last decades is the interest in the legend of Anna and everything associated weather increased greatly. Also on the internet there are, in addition to scientific texts, images.

Judging the Sotah the Woman Accused of Adultery
Jon Presco
Copyright 2003
Jesus is practicing Talmic law in regards to the Sotah (adulteress),
and he is trying to be tripped up. That early Christian writers did
not catch this, suggests they were false teachers.
“But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his
finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straitened up and
said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first
to throw a stone at her.” Again he stooped down and wrote on the
ground. At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the
older ones first, until only Jesus was left with the woman still
standing there.” John 8:6-9
Read Numbers 5:17-23 on how a priest may judge a man who unjustly
accuses his wife of being with another man!
“And the priest shall write the curses in a book and he shall blot
them out with the bitter water.”
In this case we have a Nazarite Priest, the Nazarites being the
Judges in the Torah. Here the Savior writes the name of God in the
dust in order to judge the Sotah by having her drink water from a
cup in which the dust has been stirred Here is strong evidence Jesus
was a Nazarite, and is practicing ancient halacha law regarding the
law of lashon harah (talebearing and gossip) one
can not speak lashon harah about himself, it forbidden to believe it.
It is forbidden to tell others of ones own sins. If one repeats tales
of his own sins, he may intice a friend to sin. According to lashon
harah, “Not only witnessing the actual criminal act, but even
witnessing the punnishment and humiliation of the criminal, can have
a deleterious infludence on the viewer.”
Those who have brought the adulteress to Jesus to be judged, was
caught by them committing the act, thus they are with sin. Upon
hearing tales of the woman’s sin, Jesus pretends he dos not hear,
lest he be with sin as well. As to what he is writing, it appears
he is writing the name of G-d in the dust and will put the dust in a
cup of water, and bid the woman to drink it, for if
she is guilty her stomach will swell and burst. Jesus may have bid
all those who caught the woman in the act of adultery, or, joined the
party to stone her – only hearing the tale of her sin – to come
drink from the water to prove they are telling the truth, and if so,
take the Nazarite vow.
“When Jesus had lifted himself, and saw none but the woman, he
said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? Has no man
condemend thee? She said, No man Lord. and Jesus said unto her,
Niether do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

Is it any wonder I would be interested in being romantic with beautiful women? I grew up around beautiful women! Why then have I been reviled, demonized, and made out to be insane? If these women had backed me, just a little, then I would have several books on the market. I would have a family. I would not be hounded and chased by usurpers and ignorant commoners. I would not have been betrayed by my own blood, my daughter and her drunken rascals, who thwarted all my plans. Is it any wonder there is so much war amongst these roses, these hideous fights for a royal crown? To hell with the pretenders! Be damned the fiction of thieves. There! There is your king, in his rose garden, with all those beautiful roses!

Rosemary told me her mother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond, descends from a ancient family who owned four castles on the Hephoon Heil, a river in Germany. Does anyone know this place? I suspect Mary descends from Argotta Rosamunde. All the Rosamond sisters, are dead. Who do you believe they want as the ‘Caretaker’ of their history. Myself, or Alan Pierrot and his spoiled daughter?

Is it any wonder why millions of women, many of them beautiful, voted for brutish pig of the Trumpire, ignoring the bragging of The Beast, and the testimony of beautiful women who claimed the leader of America, groped them, grabbed them, defiled them. And now, there is a darkness over the land

Jon ‘King of Oregon and California’

http://www.deloriahurst.com/deloriahurst%20page/1844.html

Argotta Rosamunde, Queen Of The Franks Female

Alas I have traced my grandfather’s mother, IDA LOUISIANA ROSE, to WILLIAM ROSE, who sailed for Cowes Isle of Wight, with William Penn. William and his wife, Jane Sarah Ridgway, landed in Philadelphia in December 3, 1699. They sailed on the Canterbury, perhaps the most important ship that sailed the waters of the Isle of Wight.

Alas, the TWO ROSES are joined in my ROSY FAMILY TREE. This makes my family one of the foremost PATRIOTIC AMERICAN FAMILIES  in history. We fought off pirates to arrive here, so we could practice RELIGIOUS FREEDOM.

In my mother’s name ROSEMARY ROSAMOND, the FAMILY ROSES are united. Here is a TRUE ROSELINE that I will design a cote of arms for, and get registered. This English Rose were Quakers. ROYAL ROSAMOND married MARY MAGDALENE. whose kindred fled religious persecution in Germany.

Jon Presco

President: Royal Rosamond Press Co.

William Rose | Rosamond Press

The Hypnotic Private Eye’

Chapter Two

Lucky Victor’s

Captain Von Victor liked Eric Nord the first time they lay eyes on each other. He could tell he was of the Teutonic race, and more than likely he was a Prussian, like himself. For this reason he gave him his best Evil Eye when he opened the old green door of ‘Green Bros & Co. on Davis street.

“Who are you? Where’s Meze? What happened to his produce?”Captain Vic growled. There was nothing more in the world he hated more, than a produce guy who doesn’t have his stuff out by 5:00 A.M.

Spotting what looked like dead bodies laying about on the sofas and floor, Von Victor brushed Big Daddy aside. Strutting about like he owned the place, Captain Vic counted the  empty bottles of booze tossed helter-skelter. He inspected the living-dead who had just crashed from their wild night of partying. Von Victor grumbled half approvingly. Some of these guys had money, and were slumming it. He recognized a couple of stiffs he had personally drunk under the table. Now, they are someone’s sucker.

“Hmmm!”

Victor had crossed the Bay Bridge in his 1948 Flatbed Ford truck to pick up some South American Guavas for Trader’s Vic’s restaurant in Oakland, that just changed its name from Hinky Dinks, thanks to Von Victor who told Victor Jules Bergerson;

“Hinky Dink sounds real queer, like Dinky Pinky. You don’t want the queer crowd in here, do ya!”.

“What do you got goin on here?” Captain Vic asked Nord as he picked up a piece of cardboard with these infamous words on it.

“SUGGESTED DONATION – ONE DOLLAR FOR MEN & FIFTY CENTS FOR WOMEN”

“I run an after hours club. Now if you don’t mind, I got to get some shut-eye. Come back tonight. Bring some friends.”

“You allow Negroes in here?” Captain Vic shot, as he lifted his black eye patch and relieved a phantom itch. After Dirty Dee-Dee knocked his eye out with a five-pound green glass ashtray, he was after as much sympathy as he could get. Scratching his dead eyeball always gave him the upper hand as it un-nerved most folks to see him do it.

“What I don’t allow in here, is racists. If you got a problem with the Black Race, don’t come back.”

“Hold your horses, ass-bite. I am thinking of bringing my good friends here, Viola and Vivian ‘The Voom-Voom Sisters. You allow music? They play a mean Macumba, and have known to make Betsy Smith, blush!

“Of course! They are more than welcome!” Eric answered, contritely, because he and other club owners had been trying to book the Voom-Voom sisters who only play the clubs on 7th. Street, and, will do private parties at the Ritz Hotel in Emeryville (owned by Big Bone’s Remmer) if the price is right.

Eris watched Von Victor put the red truck in reverse, then in first, and drive away. Deep inside he knew his life was going to change, forever. Captain Vic was tight with Jack Londons’ daughter, and was running Acme Produce out of a Victorian warehouse on Webster and 4th, in Jack London Square. As he headed to San Jose, because that was the only other place you can get the Guavas Victor and his bartenders, liked, his mind and heart took in his old flame, Sarah Churchill, who he had to have the minute he lay his eye on her. He took her in the back of Hinky Dinks, thew her on some crates of oranges, and forced her to submit to his real Bohemian lust. He never fucked an actress before. Nine months later, Sarah thrust lil Oakland Jonny in his arms.

“I believe this lil sack of spuds…….belongs to you!”

When Vic walked in the door of his home on Berlin Way, that was built b his German grandfather, the Captain thrust Oakland Jonny in the arms of his wife, Rosemary,.

“Here. You have another son. If you give me any guff, I will twist your arm behind your back and force you to your knees. Now , take these kidney and cook them up the away I like them!”

When Oakland Jonny was thirteen, he was known as ‘The Artist That Makes Women Cry’. Victor Bergeron commissioned Jonny to render some drawings of his new place. He rendered the beautiful Polynisian maiden on the cover of the menu. After that, The Captain introduced his a son as his ‘Art Whore’.

“He’ll draw or paint anything for a buck!

This is when Lil Jonny began to paint and draw in a closet with a flashlight. When his father opened ‘Lucky Victor’s’ he was forced to render these incredible murals of the adventures of Jack London for a dollar a day. Lucky Victor’s opened the same day Chessman hired Bill Linhart.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2016

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to Royal Rose Of The World 4

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    Thespians and Art has been a major theme of this blog. I am pursuing a new career as a Screenwriter.

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