My social father (Bradley Moore Allen) passed away a few years back. He raised me. I called him Dad his entire life, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. At the time he passed, I asked the executrix of his estate, my eldest sibling, if I may test Brad's DNA test to ascertain my paternity. She told me that wasn't necessary.
For over a decade, I explained to people that Mr. Jobs was my biological half uncle. I knew something was amiss. When I made this assertion, people would often correct or question me. With an eerie consistency, they would misunderstand me, and ask me if Mr. Jobs was my half brother.
About two years ago, I was enjoying breakfast at a table in a lovely hotel when a man walked up and sat down across from me. I was given permission to release the information that Mr. Jobs had been my half-brother, not half uncle. When the man supplied me with this information, I inquired of the man if he wished to be credited by where and when the information was given to me. He asserted that would not be necessary. Not necessary for whom?
My parents had an open marriage. I was a witness to my dad's wandering weenie. My youngest sister has repeatedly suggested that Marcia was no saint either. Like many American Baptists, we looked like June & Ward Cleaver. Eventually, if you search carefully, thoroughly document, analyse, question, and repeat, the truth surfaces. Nonetheless, never stop repeating.
I suspect Marcia & Brad squirted out three daughters. Mom, Dad & The Girls, then moved to Burma in 1960. Dad got Asian dick at least as bad as I have it. Poof! No more kiddies with Marcia! How many kids did Brad father in Burma? I bet the Japanese know.
If you are ignorant enough to suspect the Americans also kept track of how busy Daddy dearest was getting in Rangoon, my guess is there were two Americans in the American Embassy in Rangoon in 1960 to 1965 who knew what my parents were. Both of those USG employees were more loyal to my organisation than they were to the American taxpayer who was, yet again, getting hosed by the Feds. Neither of the Americans stationed at the US Embassy in Rangoon were sharing The Transparent Throne information with the US Government.
In 1988, The Nation published an article alleging that Bush worked as an operative of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) during the 1960s...
Once the former CIA Beijing station chief became President of the United States,
the USG 'finder'
By Apple Inc. - Original publication: macOS Big Sur operating system, June 22 2020 Fair use
had probably narrowed my identity to much fewer than 1000 points of light. My guess is B1 probably had it down to a handful, if not definitively. That is why he got elected.
Harold Brainerd Allen (b. 1896 d. 1983) served The Upjohn Company, and the Upjohn family for decades. I often refer to Harold as The Upjohn Company Consigliere. My first cousin is married to an Upjohn.
Harold Allen was, at the risk of being immodest (a risk I know too well), the primary force in making The Upjohn Company worthy of being the Pfizer Inc. kernal.
In 1932 he joined the Upjohn Company as a statistician and soon became corporate secretary to the organisation.
At the time Harold joined, The Upjohn Company was in the third generation of an Upjohn family CEO. That CEO was called Harold Upjohn, and died in surgery in his 40s. His surviving father (the second generation CEO) professionally, and perhaps emotionally, substuted Harold Allen for his late son. Harold Allen, my biological father, then built Upjohn into one of the larger North American pharma companies of the 20th Century.
HBA knew what our family was. He knew his son Brad had married the Holy Grail. Harold knew the Son of Heaven would be male, and if Brad didn't squirt some sperm into Marcia's vagina, that Son wasn't going to be born.
Harold and his spouse Ethel, parents of Brad, visited their son, daughter-in-law and three grandaughters in Rangoon, where Marcia, Brad and my three elder siblings were living at 143 St. John's Road. Harold spanks the monkey, and donates his charity to Marcia's gynecologist, whom, I suspect, Marcia was banging. Brad always seemed to wax a bit too poetic about the obgyn that delivered my younger brother and I.
Once I arrived on the scene, as is often the case, Marcia received another love injection from Brad, and my younger brother was born.
Now that I have explained to you my background, you can see that relatively speaking, I'm really undersexed.
Stay tuned to this loony Bat channel.
