San Sebatian Avernue
I told Betty Young I was looking for my brother, who disappeared. I asked her if Rick had heard from him. Betty and I talked about life on San Sebastian since the Prescos left town. There were Fourth of July street parties, and the street was blocked off with red road cones. Rick showed up on a fire engine with his fellow firefighters. I would later wonder if our childhood friend got into EMERGENCY WORK because he grew up in our house, where we had three tier emergencies going on, and it was like Spock Chess; you had to know your levels of chaos. Psychologist have noted that people who grew up in hell, chose to work in hell, because they felt comfortable. In sane surrounding, Survivors went insane, expecting something bad to happen, but, it never did. From what Betty told me, her and Rick lived a very sane life – at home! But, there go Rick to the next fire, or another bloody scene on the Nimitz Freeway.
Rick ate good at the firehouse. At the Presco home we had an very used French fry maker – and a big sack of potatoes. Our father was the Spud King of Jack London Square. We fed them into that ol pot of boiling Crisco – around the clock! We had kids coming out of our ears. We had children down in the basement with the termite trees, in the boiler room, up in the boys room – and the secret Naughty Room where we kept our stack of Stag, and Playboy magazine. We had Christine hiding in the girls closet rendering masterpieces – by flashlight! Do you – believe?
Rick was present at most of Mark and my fist-fights. I think his brother was a professional boxer, and Rick would comment on how good my uppercuts were; Rick and Mark were best friends. Mark had a way of getting under ones skin. When Betty asked me when we sold the Bastian House, I told her;
“We didn’t sell. We fled!”
I told her about Rosemary getting busted for making porn with Big Bones, and, she fled to LA leaving her four children. and our four best friends, to live a communal life. Betty said we turned out O.K. and “it looks like you found yourself at last”. Later I wanted to tell her;
“I found myself at seven, I had no choice. Vic told everyone I was not his son, and he refused to take care of this baby bird that was slipped in his nest by Act of Total Betrayal. Sure, everyone had an identity crisis, but when identities got passed out by the Resident Narcissist, there was mine, all by itself, at the bottom of the bag. Take it, or leave it. There’s not free lunch in Captain Victims home.”
My ex-wife found me…….. living in a tiny shack in the Chicano area of Oakland, She was blown away with my architectural drawings. She had studied architecture at Cornell where she became friends with Richard Farina and Thomas Pynchon, who she lived in Mexico with. My neighbor was a Mexican with two sons. He was doing gardening for Mary Ann’s neighbor when she asked him if her could put in a vegetable garden for her. He told her his neighbor may be able to do that, because I had a little plot. When I showed up, we had our Fountainhead Experience. I moved in two days later.
Mary Ann tharaldsen had to take me out of The Hood, and save me. Here she is having a showdown with my freind Roberto on Octaviaa Street. Roberta dropped a big chunk of concrete on his toes, and was about to get a settlement. He just had his cast off. My wife had roamed the bad streets in Mexico get fast food for Thomas as he typed all night, and slept all day.
Above is a pic of Mark in Roseville. Grandpa Joe put up a tent in the backyard, because Grandma had a fetish about dirty boys, and their leaking urine. We only were allowed in to eat, and go to sleep. My brother had gone to Joes house the summer before, and knew all the ropes. He became my
TENT NAZI
I had to ask permission to come into – his tent! I could not read the fresh comic book that Grandma Melba bought him – until after he read them. Rick had gone to stay in Roseville, and when he gets back from his fishing trip, I will see if he has retained his experience. He may suffer from PTSD, or, is blocked due to the gaslighting torture he endured under Colonel Klink. If we were not doing The Grapes of wrath, or, Tortilla Flat, we’re doing The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.
A couple of years ago I sent a message to President Biden – WARNING – him about Mark Presco, who was forever creating a riff between us, and, so go the Presco Brothers, so goes the Nation.
Here
To Hate Your Brother
Posted on December 5, 2022 by Royal Rosamond Press
Defense Language Institute Monterey
A week after Christine was allegedly killed by a rogue wave, I was at her house when she got annoyed with Michelle Neisess a friend of Christine and our father whom she met at dinner over at the Benton home. I asked Michelle about the wind conditions that morning and she said it was very windy. She goes jogging around 9:00 A.M. almost every morning with her good friend, the ex-Chief of Police of Pacific Grove. They have coffee together. She said she will talk to him about his recollections.
“He said it was quite a blow that morning!” Michelle told me on the phone. My investigation was on in earnest.
I will talk with my therapist tomorrow about my parents raising their first born as a White Supremist. Mark Presco is named after the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Vic Presco claimed I was not his child. Rosemary Presco would make her favorite son put his arm around me, then laugh at his reaction. It was made very clear to me I was not wanted, and was a parasite on the Presco family. My sister, Christine Benton – adored me!
John Presco
It is 2:55 A.M. November 24, 2022. Today is Thanksgiving. I will spend it alone. I suspect all members of my natal family are dead, but, I am not sure. My brother, Mark Presco may still be alive – and is hiding from me. On this day – he is visible to many. My older brother has been a Misognyist, Racist, Neo-Nazi most of his life. He instigated violence in our home. He called me a parasite on society when I was sixteen because I wanted to be an artist.
“No one makes money off their art. You are a parasite on society!”
Our sister became one of the highest paid artists in history. Christine Rosamond Presco, married Garth Benton, who is kin to Senator Thomas Hart Benton, who is kin to Ralph Lane and Shakespeare. They had one child, Drew Benton. Here is Mark’s hateful essays.
My brother is the type who should not be allowed near art and artists.
My racist brother wanted me to include parts of his hateful manifesto in my biography of my late sister. I refused. He disowned me, threw me out of our family. This is why I was not told my mother was dying. Is Bannon and Richard Spencer reading Mark Presco’s blogs? Read this. Mark Presco wrote this.
“We need a separation, a divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. All my life I have heard black people complain about how awful it has been for them; how they were dragged out of Africa against their will; enslaved an oppressed by the white devil and how we owe them reparations for this injustice. I agree, we owe them repatriation to Africa. It’s time to take them home, to where we so rudely took them from in the first place.””
I – Artist
Chapter Two – Who Got The Football?
After telling her infamous story about slamming my head on the floor in order to make me stop hitting my head on the wall, Rosemary went into her epic tale about our father giving my brother, Mark, the paints, and – I the football! That’s Mark being forced to put his arm around his baby brother. This is 1949, and I am three years old. I believe it is Easter, because I see a Easter Egg basket in his hand. I do not have one because Victor hated to buy us toys, and if he was forced to do so because it was that time of the year, then we had to share the one precious gift. When Rosemary brought me home from the hospital, my brother had a conniption fit. He threw himself on the floor and started banging his head.
This morning at 5:00 A.M. I turned on MSNBC and saw this title on the screen..
“Having A Nazi To Dinner”
Gee! I had dinner – with two Nazis – for years! My brother hung a wood carving he made of a Nazi giving a seic Heil salute standing on a circle with a swastika. My father’s secretaries called him….
“Vic – The Nazi”
‘I tried my best’: Musk kicks Kanye off Twitter again over swastika post
Story by Alice Hearing • 6h ago
React37 Comments|79
Kanye West aka Ye is seen wearing a Balenciaga boxing mouthguard, outside Givenchy© Edward Berthelot/GC Images
Only a matter of days after being allowed back on Twitter, Kanye West has once again been suspended.
Chief executive Elon Musk, the arbiter of West’s return to the platform, confirmed that West had violated rules relating to incitement of violence. West had tweeted an image that appeared to show a swastika inside the star of David.
“I tried my best,” Musk said after confirming the permanent ban. As part of his “dedication” to free speech, Musk had previously opted to bring back controversial figures, reviving the previously suspended accounts of former President Donald Trump and Marjorie Taylor Greene among others.
Before his recent reinstatement, the rapper, legally known as Ye, had been locked out of his account two months ago for hate speech towards Jews. He was temporarily banned from Instagram at the same time.
Parler failure
The ban adds to other bad news for Ye.
The rapper and designer had announced plans in October to acquire Parler, a platform embraced by conservatives who departed Twitter over allegations of political censorship and were drawn to the smaller platform’s “free speech” policy. But on Tuesday, Parler announced that the deal had fallen through.
Related video: Elon Musk Suspends Kanye West on Twitter After Swastika Post
Where’s Mark Presco?
Posted on February 4, 2013 by Royal Rosamond Press
In my novel ‘The Gideon Compter’ I have my hero. Berkeley Bill Bolagard, captured by a malevolent computer designed by his rival for Monica’s affections, Thomas Gideon, a Catholic, who realizes there are billions of snippets of guilt we humans are evading. If only they could be strung together and stored in the Vault of Shame, our souls would be captured in a labyrinth of despair from which we would never escape. To make sure his labyrinth was air-tight, he needed to capture the greatest Artful Dodger of them all, his nemesis, Berkeley Bill, the last Hippie on earth.
“Don’t lay your guilt-trip on me!”
Rosamond Press 
Leave a comment