President Frank Marshall Davis Obama!!
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Because of his illegitimate parentage, President Obama is a blackmailers dream come true....HE can't dare say NO to the demands of the Pentagon and the other destroyers of the United States Constitution!!
". . . And the conspiracy was strong . . ." (II Samuel 15:12).
Frank Marshall Davis was the real father of President Barack H. Obama.
Mr. Davis was born in Kansas and was assigned to the Pacific island paradise of Hawaii in 1948.
There was one exception, a poet named Frank who lived in a dilapidated house in a run-down section of Waikiki. He had enjoyed some modest notoriety once, was a contemporary of Richard Wright and Langston Hughes during his years in Chicago—Gramps once showed me some of his work anthologized in a book of black poetry. But by the time I met Frank he must have been pushing eighty, with a big, dewlapped face and an ill-kempt gray Afro that made him look like an old, shaggy-maned lion. He would read us his poetry whenever we stopped by his house, sharing whiskey with Gramps out of an emptied jelly jar. As the night wore on, the two of them would solicit my help in composing dirty limericks. Eventually the conversation would turn to laments about women. (Obama, Dreams from My Father, pp. 76-77).
The memoirs of Frank Marshall Davis entitled Livin' the Blues were published in 1992—5 years after the death of Mr. Davis in Hawaii.
My old man, Sam Davis floated into town from some place in the state of Arkansas. An itinerant barber and musician (he blew baritone horn, undoubtedly with a heavy seasoning of the blues), he met and married my mother, fathered me, hung around long enough to see what he and God had wrought, then drifted on. They were divorced before I was a year old, and I've never heard of him since. For all I know, the old boy played similar gigs in several towns, and I may be related to a lot of other people never heard of.
I was Mother's first and last child. Possibly I discouraged her, for when I was two she left with a white family for California to work as their maid for a couple of years. Since Aunt Hattie had already split the ho-hum prairie scene for Kansas City where there was more action, that left my care and feeding to Mrs. Amanda Porter, my great-grandmother.(Davis, Livin' the Blues, p. 7).
Obama's father graduated from Arkansas City high school in 1923.
Upon graduation, he attended Friends University in Wichita, Kansas, and then attended Kansas State University in Manhattan, Kansas.
Obama's father was a journalism major, and a very talented poet and writer.
Obama's father was a talented writer, newspaper editor, and poet.
During this time, he was also identified with left wing or "Communist" causes.
He also ran a nude photography studio which welcomed blacks and whites!!
In 1946, Obama's father married 23 year old Helen Canfield in Chicago.
The Davis' had 5 known children, all of them born after his assignment to Hawaii.
The couple divorced in 1970, and Helen died in 1998.
That was the explanation for the move to Hawaii according to Mr. Davis....The real TRUTH is that he was a secret FBI agent and was assigned to Hawaii.During the summer of 1948, Helen read an article in a woman's magazine describing how it was to live in Hawaii. She put it down, turned to me, and wondered wistfully if Hawaii was as wonderful as it seemed. I suggested we investigate. We decided to go there in December and stay two or three months, long enough to miss the worst of another Chicago winter; if we liked it, we would live there permanently. Meanwhile in the next few months I tried to learn all I could about Paradise through the Hawaii Visitors Bureau, Hawaiian magazines, Honolulu newspapers, and the National Geographic. When I learned the islands were free of snakes, I was automatically sold. Carefully, we packed our most prized possessions, our record collection, in cartons and stored them. (Davis, Livin' the Blues, p. 311).
Bitter cold Chicago winter.
As a SPECIAL AGENT for the FBI—Federal Bureau of Inquisition—Mr. Davis was assigned to the Pacific paradise of Hawaii.
Davis also operated a small wholesale paper business, Oahu Papers, which mysteriously burned to the ground in March 1951. In 1959, he started another similar firm, the Paradise Paper Company.
Davis let the cat out of the bag when he said that people suspected him of being an FBI agent in disguise:
I first drew FBI attention when I joined with others in speaking my mind back in 1937 when the League of American Writers published the booklet, Writers Take Sides. Undoubtedly, a huge dossier was compiled on me because of my activities during World War II. When I left Chicago for Hawaii in 1948, I am confident this dossier arrived as soon as I did. Undoubtedly Honolulu agents were told to watch my every move. Usually those wanting telephones installed waited months for service and then could get only party lines. Invariably I received a private line a day or two after application, which permitted the FBI to monitor all my calls more easily. When they could find no evidence I was plotting to overthrow the government by force and violence, the Hoover Gestapo turned to other tactics. Friends told me FBI agents had approached them asking if they knew whether I was "peddling dope" and if I were a brother of Ben Davis, Jr. To underline the absurdity of it all, some of those later accused as Communists suspected I was "an FBI plant" trying to get the goods on them. (Davis, Livin' the Blues, pp. 325-326).
In June 1969, I began living in a section of Waikiki known as the Jungle. Surrounded by big, pretentious tourist trap hotels, this area consisted of one- and two-story studio cottages, small hotels, and old homes converted into rooming houses and apartments. My quarters were a little studio facing a narrow, one-way street. My tiny porch with three stone steps was only two feet from the sidewalk, thus permitting me to hold conversations with pedestrians-and occasionally motorists-on both sides of the thoroughfare.
My neighbors were young men and women mainly from the mainland between eighteen and twenty-five years old, here on vacation or to attend the University of Hawaii. For the most part, they were from California, with a few from as far away as Maine and Florida. In addition there were others from South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, Canada, the Caribbean, Samoa, Tonga, and the other islands of the South Pacific. Hippies were still numerous, but the majority I thought of as members of the Now Generation. My relationships and experiences were so interesting and fantastic I detailed them, along with my three trips to the mainland in 1973 and 1974 to read my poetry, in a separate tome entitled "That Incredible Waikiki Jungle."
What immediately impressed me about these young Americans, by far the numerical majority and most of them meeting for the first time in Hawaii, was their warm camaraderie and my ability to communicate on their own terms with no hint of a generation gap. Virtually all the young brothers consorted with ofay chicks (at least 80 percent of them longhaired blondes), and the sisters were affiliated with white boys. Occasionally a brother, a honky lad, and two white girls rented quarters together. Young blacks in bountiful Afros and wearing dashikis crashed in pads rented by ofays they never knew before; occasionally I permitted young white girls to sleep overnight on my floor. I saw no signs of racial hangups; these were all members of the Now Generation associating with whom they liked and color be damned. (Davis, Livin' the Blues, pp. 327-328).
Ann Dunham graduated from Mercer Island High School in Washington State, in 1960.
Her family moved to Hawaii that same year where she attended the University of Hawaii.
It was there that she had an affair with Davis and the result was baby Obama!!
Ann Dunham was also known for her later work as an anthropologist and social activist for Ford Foundation counter-insurgency projects in Indonesia under the reactionary Suharto regime. Chipman notes, 'Terance Bigalke, who worked with Dunham at the Ford Foundation in Jakarta, says she also fostered social activism in her children through her work on behalf of the world's poor. "She had such a strong concern for people who were in difficult circumstances economically," says Bigalke. That concern led her to study the underground economy of Jakarta street vendors. Ann Dunham's interest in anthropology had begun in Indonesia, Chipman found. Her first months in Indonesia "sparked a lifelong passion that later led Dunham to return to Hawaii for graduate studies in anthropology and an 800-page Ph.D. thesis on Indonesian blacksmithing. Her interest in the local culture was aroused almost immediately, when she started teaching English to Indonesians." In effect, whatever her subjective intentions, Ann Dunham profiled the Indonesian population for the United States Agency for International Development (US AID), the Ford Foundation, the World Bank, all key institutions for dollar imperialism. (Tarpley, Barack H. Obama The Unauthorized Biography, p. 30).