He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life.

Genesis 3:22-24

Q Todd Dickinson

Bill Clinton's Commissioner of Patents when intellectual property rights to ownership of the genetic code of life itself was granted, and my personal enemy, has passed during the start of the Pandemic. No cause of death was listed other than to say he was somebody's "wife". I am guessing Covid-19, unless... it's AIDS from a San Francisco bathhouse glory hole.

"Hoist on his own petard" looks like...

His legacy of his nine month tenure includes increasing the price that the old, the poor, and the sick pay for medicines to the benefit of the idle, the rich, and the greedy. He was the architect of the legal framework that supported and created the Covid nightmare, and its legal patents. Todd dickenson said if they could trick you into a gene shot you were no longer human and they now "owned" you.

He was also the very first cabinet level official to Joke about his Penis size in a room of hundreds of leading political and legal luminaries of San Francisco, where most had to have been intimately familiar with the topic (his penis) for the Joke to fly. It was a revealing demonstration of degeneracy worthy of the man who happened to be sitting in the chair when they declared Life itself a patentable commodity to be created and designed, and bought and sold by men for gold. It provides insight into the character of the individuals who make up the San Franciso focused biotech patent industry.

Someone who attempted murder as a response to a defeat in a fair student election a decade later using the murder/accident tools of the powerful and corrupt. In the process he disclosed the methodology of a classic Clinton Murder by Accident and several key players of the San Francisco murder Inc. (read carefully and between the lines).

It wasn't just the Penis that was small....

Superior Court Documents

Rabbit in a Shooting Gallery
The history of an interesting traffic accident
and the politics of our time.

What's in a Name?

San Francisco Marina District
Pierce Street Annex Bar
April 21, 1984 1:45 AM
Thirteen Years after King Solomon's Gate

"All right, All right, Jeezz your a pain in the ass sometimes. There's all kind of women here, why do you want to go all the way across town at 2:00... the bar is going to be closed by the time we get there anyway". He was insistent and I was starting to suddenly feel pretty down and drunk. Things hadn't been going very well. This was starting to look like a four year run into nowhere. Venture capitol star of the Montana oil patch to dead end in a Moving Van. I kinda snickered at myself. Jeezz, I had even debased myself in front of a former enemy, unbelievable. I had actually forgotten how bovine it was to watch Q. Todd Dickinson (as in son of the Devil) gloat. In all the years of our political and social competition at college, it had been a fortuitously rare sight. Now he was on his way up... Up all the way to the edges of "Accident Bill" Clinton's cabinet as things turned out. Somehow my venture capitol offering to construct a computerized second hand goods marketing system must have found its way to his desk. I had raised the first half million in Montana, a decade before ebay, and produced promising numbers, and now I was on the hustings in San Francisco for a second round. A flaming gay Lawrence Expressway Venture Cap just south of Palo Alto had surprised me out of the blue by saying he was interested in meeting about my proposal. He was now a venture capitol lawyer apparently (NOT - Chevron Oil).

The meeting had consisted of Todd icily staring at me as he drummed his fingers on the Desk. Nearly the only words he spoke in those minutes were that he "had no interest whatsoever". It left me puzzled as to the purpose of the meeting. It certainly didn't feel like he missed me and desired my charming company. The meeting had been rather cold and odd to say the least. Why had he bothered if he had no interest?

Fagan nudged my arm again, I spun around at him and blurted out, "Yea and I was just talking to two gorgeous chicks before you blew it". He had rudely and very purposely blown off two very interesting women I was talking with. "They were law students for crying out loud", I said. "Sit down its too damned late, it will be closed by the time we get there". "What's this anyway, our third time back here"?

I was a little peeved. Besides I was starting to feel staggering. I was probably going to sit on a sidewalk or walk down by the boats long before I went anywhere. Still, I didn't want to be too hard on him. He was the only friend I had in San Francisco. ...and the sob had just blown my shot at a second. I was dismal. I wanted to be back in the cabin in the Redwoods at the hostel in Saratoga brushing luxurious golden hair with a gentle rain on the roof and the sweet smell of wet Redwoods filling my nostrils. "God I am stupid sometimes when you offer me gifts the likes of her company" ...I silently thought to myself as I did my best imitation of a Jewish gesture with my right hand. I deserved to be stuck with this ugly Rhode Island heavy metal, needle starter level, dressed down rodeo clown with the speech impediment. The guy made me laugh, especially his outlandish driving. He kept claiming he'd ridden the bike all the way from Rhode Island, and every time he said it, I looked at him and just sort of smiled and thought to myself "How the hell did he make it", not realizing much of it was an act for my benefit.

Somehow Fagan got me on to the sidewalk, its all in a big hurry and a blur. His voice keeps insisting "the other bars going to close", "the other bars going to close", "Hurry", "Hurry", "Come on... we can make it". He escorts me by the elbow toward the bike parked on the sidewalk. Fagan inexplicably waves at a cab driving by (very slowly) in the street to move on. The cab drives,... on as instructed,... and pulls over to the right about a hundred feet up the road. "Man that guy is everywhere", I said out loud.... I had seen the same cab driver several times that night around the city, later I would realize near each of the close calls of the evening. (Robert Milne, VP of Yellow Cab - a firm with strong long term interests in Parking Commission issues).

Fagan hops on the bike first. "Now wait a minute... we had agreed when we left the hotel that I would drive". The argument ensues. "Besides, the drivers out here are crazy. They're unbelievable, They are just plain bad. Dangerous. Not only that but You can't drive for shit". I had saved his butt ...not once ...but twice tonight, and on that last one the incredible stupid SOB had thrown his weight the wrong way and very nearly clocked us both.

I tried to point all this out during the short argument, but, finally, I wind up on the back because I was suddenly too drunk, but I had been driving the rest of the night with no problem at all.

And its a blur of motion,... a racing start too fast and the cab pulls out as we leave. Fagan swerves around it. One close call already. By mid block I say screw it and wrap my arms around his waste. He goes freaky on me grabbing at my hand, then bending my forefinger back forcing me to let go and grab the strap at the bottom of the seat between my legs. I was shocked at the rudeness of it but never suspected the actual reason. The bike slows to 10 as he gets my arms off his waist, (Examine Accident Dynamics) the bike staggers, then he's off like a rocket again. I start screaming at him to slow down. I start to throw my weight back and forth to wag the motorcycle. "There's a car back on the right I hope this idiot sees it",...I thought as I apply more pressure. "Slow down" I scream again. It'll be a reasonable ride... or I'll just as soon meet the pavement right now. The Cab driven by the Vice President of Yellow Cab, overtakes us over my right shoulder as Fagan drops the speed of the bike to avoid me flipping us, the cab drops far back. Fagan relented a little more, down to about thirty from fifty for the last half block, delaying our arrival at the appointed spot by several seconds, then with a roar, he speeds up again with a burst ...as we sail over the hump, and I am hurled into the path of the waiting tow truck (breaking my back and Jaw in 4 places)...I feel my body start to rise and the bike forcibly shift to the right underneath me propelled by Fagan's Leap off the bike and his barrel role toward the Manhole cover ( Police Report). It is falling away from me, between my legs as my body rises. I feel the edge of the Bikes seat hitting hard against the inside of my right leg [leaving a nasty bruise], the seats square edge impacting above the knee and down across the inside of the kneecap and then the film stops. Blank. Darkness. Then a voice floats in "You've been in an accident", "Do you understand", "You've been in an accident", "Do you understand". Vague memories float back over the years of two people standing over me watching me writhe and spit blood. Descriptions lean toward the Cab Driver and its unnamed passenger... you quess who.

To fully understand these events you need to carefully examine the dynamics of the accident and the police reports and transcripts (below). The single most important fact of the accident itself is that the driver (Fagan) leapt from the motorcycle BEFORE the impact landing near the manhole cover, and the passenger (me) and the bike were propelled into the tow trucks path. The Bike is damaged !!!!!!ON THE RIGHT SIDE NOT ON THE LEFT SIDE !!!!!!. The tow truck driver (Klimper) quits his job immediately after the accident and moves from his slum SRO shared motel room into a "Large well maintained estate". From Hotbunking in an SRO to this (Click Here and do Street View) Two independent key witnesses, teenagers who were perfectly positioned to see everything, are rudely excluded from telling what they saw, dismissed and never identified. They depart proclaiming to any and all who will listen "Yea we know what time it is". A key witness, Robert Milne, a Vice President of a Taxi company dealing extensively with Dickinson's parking commission, lies about key facts of the accident and is seen during the preceding two other near accidents that very night. Milne exhibits a strong active interest in the trial following the accident for an uninvolved party arriving at a random accident. He actively tries to discredit all other witnesses. Police bias raises suspicions in the defense of a Police/ABC Towing connection. Insurance company pre existing investigations into Milne are known to exist but details are sealed and unavailable. Milne's secret passenger is sent from the scene and never identified. (Dickinson I assume). Two police officers appear immediately on the scene but are unlisted in the records. A radiator hose blows on the unknown squad car at a unusual time (after its stopped for several minutes) creating confusion while the victim (me) is "tended to". Activities are then further interrupted, perhaps fortuitously, by the arrival of a city bus. The tow truck is described as driving unusually leading up the the accident as if timing itself to the lights, and exhibits anticipatory behavior at the accidents intersection. Milne's cab drives in synch with the bike in the blocks preceding the accident. (Communications?). John Fiske Brown Associates (Forensic Engineers) smells a rat.

Todd Dickinson - College rival - Chair of the San Francisco Parking Authority. Patent Commissioner under Clinton 1998. Active participant in the decision to allow the patenting of Life Forms. TWICE defeated for Allegheny College Student Body President by me in 1972 and again in 1973. Dickinson's Homosexuality forced him to hide from the 1970's era student body while competing for Big Man On Campus. The "With a Little..." ...Pause?... Laugh? comments to the specialized audience of several hundred probable gay sexual partners at a San Francisco BALIF meeting, echos prior Allegheny student scuttlebutt about his freakish anatomy and may have provided further motivation to Dickinson's puzzling persistent jealousy See the Student Bylaws affair. (The "Mohammed Atta" effect?)

Its "nice" that Q Todd rewrote the bylaws of the tiny Sigma Alfa Epsilon Fraternity, I had no idea my complete rewrite of the Student Government bylaws and its Student Body wide referendum (which resulted in his second defeat in 1973) had such an exemplary impact. In fact I had entirely forgotten about it.

At our 25th anniversary at Allegheny, as I shook his hand on the steps of Bentley Hall to congratulate him on his appointment by President Clinton, I said "See how much good it did ya to have me kick your ass twice. eh? eh? eh?" smile smile "See...things always work out for the best in life".

I expected a laugh, I got a grunt. It was the first of several brief encounters that weekend that caused me to put it all together. I had left everything about Todd Dickenson far in the rear view mirror years ago,.. and I had never sat in the Oval office nor testified before congress. My fame extended to a handful of highly paced tech corporate types, and recognizable numbers on a half dozen fortune 500 companies bottom line. My up to that point, successful career as venture entreprenure and Corporate President ended with the accident. Beyond debates and committe meetings I never had spent any time with him socially, my memories were of beating him in two elections and in every Council vote for two years. No hard feelings on my part, I was truely pleased when I found out of his elevated position, and quite ready to bask in the reflected glory and toast his success.

But its a common pattern I see all the time in "the haters", and I attribute it ot the Gate. In them there is a vehemence and a persistance that always surprises. In several cases people literally rearrange their lives over what seems meaningless to me. Its perhaps a sense of the relative distances of the divine in lives. The further they are the more intense, the more vicious the reaction. Its usually an instant thing, of course with Todd there was a history, a student history years ago.

To see those comments that "things work out for the best in life", parroted at the bottom of his Alumni profile was stunning, his entire summary of his professional accomplishments which are considerable and far beyond mine, gets second fiddle to the fraternity bylaws and "Things Work Out for the Best in Life"? Divine resentment, or just a matter of a gay Dickinson's resentments at the college community he hid from while attempting to lead it and the added jealousy created by what won't reach where :(

They say its good to walk in another mans shoes, but when I now think of Todd its of a man who needs to dominate to feel whole and worth anything, with a weener that won't reach, stuck on his stomach for gratification. No thanks, think I'll keep my size 11's :) But the roots of the viciousness almost become understandable when I "try on his shoes". Just glad that wasn't my lot, it seems to have a little of the flavor of being cursed by God.

As regards the commercialization of Life and the ownership of Genes I have to go with the Bible on this one. Todd's role in the patenting, ownership, and buying and selling life is striking in the context of all these events. This decison subjected the entire field of biological research to a single minded persuit of profit that took over its direction, administration and ethics.

Then the Lord God said Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil, and now, lest he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever" - therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken. He drove out the man; and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.  The Holy Bible Genesis 3:23

Robert Milne Night Manager/Board Directors Yellow Cab, Expert accident witness
Key Player. He was driving along side on the right in nearly exact speed synch with the motorcycle as it speed up and slowed down. His mystery passenger is for some reason NEVER identified. I saw Milne twice that night in different parts of the city in addition to seeing him when Fagan swerved to avoid him just before the accident. Why a VP of a cab company would be driving a cab on Saturday night, and also why a driver would voluntarily blow off the bar rush (half the nights income) to become a witness for strangers has never been explained.

Robert Emmet Fagan
Instant Best Friend, Former rodeo barrel clown . He reported No Memory of the accident but also No Head Injury was reported. Fagan magically kept running into me as we rode our bikes around downtown San Francisco in the weeks before the accident, (usually near the Liberty Hotel where I was staying) and then later became a regular at the Noe Valley bar (Finnegans Wake) that I had been frequenting.

Larry James Klimper
Drivers License C3424569 Employee ABC Towing Company 2nd addr: 1038 Plymouth
Tow Truck Driver who goes from "hotbunking" in a shared Single Room Occupancy in the tenderloin slum to unemployed tow truck driver living at 70 Marcela Street, San Francisco,... a "Large Well Maintained Estate" following "accident".

Scotty Hamilton -Witness- 564 Grove Street San Francisco California

Lucy A James Investigations / 415-553-1145 John Hen 2002

Robert Pitti and Rose Longoria -Witness -1041 Liberty Street El Cerrito, Ca

Kent Russell esq. Russell and Russell 3169 Washington St San Francisco, Ca 94115
2299 SUTTER ST SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94115-3109 (415) 929-8301
My second attourney, actively and strongly pushed on me by Charley, the manager of a moving and storage company, to replace the one I had grabbed off a TV ad. The Original team gathered most of the interesting tid bits that show up in the legal record. Russell was heavily connected to the San Francisco establishment which may explain the paultry settlement which ended the suit, and the lack of followup on the tidbits.

Fagan correctly testified we had four beers each over the several hours we were bombing back and forth in search of destiny between a half dozen different bars. However, he lied when he said I had been drinking before that. He called then picked me up at the Lafayette that night about 11, saying it would cheer me up and get me out of the room and he'd buy the beers. He did, and as a consequence controlled the schedule of the evening as well. The evening was a series of one quickly gulped beer then a drive across town to another bar always at Fagan's insistence. The trips were one close call after another. I remember stumbling as I approached the Bike to argue with Fagan, but given the consumption that night should not have been drunk. We argued about who would drive when he picked me up, and I told him forget it, I was going up to bed rather than ride with him, that settled it, with me driving for the first few passes back and forth between the bars. One one occasion, the day before I sold my bike, I pulled out of an alley and gunned it down the street near the Lafayette. As I to got up to about 45, this car pulled a fast Uie out of a parking space right into my path, forcing me to lay the bike down and ride it (sitting/laying on top, burning my thigh on the engine) to avoid an impact, and succeeded in lessening it. I met, but do not yet clearly recall the portly individual. The damage on the side of the bike forced me to take less than the price I had already set with the musician in San Jose who bought it the next day. Those first driving experiences my first time in "Frisco", started my long, intense dislike of the city. Randomly (?) meeting a 20ish guy with Spiderman tattoos, and getting severely poisoned a few weeks before, didn't improve my impressions. The first real incident the night of the accident, the second time we left the bar, was at the EXACT same intersection. Fagan leaned right into the oncoming truck and I stood on my left leg on the peg, leaned a full two feet out to the left, pulling on the handle bars, and gunned it barely missing getting clipped by a truck, (don't know if it was the same one). At the time I yelled at him, I couldn't believe the stupidity, but wrote if off, concluding, he was a bozo rider as well as driver apparently. If I had not slowed him down by wagging the bike in the blocks preceding the accident, the circumstance of the accident would have delivered me like a sack of grain right UNDERNEATH an oncoming tow truck.

*Just off the Left hand side of the Expressway going south in a long low two story building, first floor if I remember correctly.

*To Dance: between speeds of 30 and 60 you turn the extended front wheel back and forth almost on a second count ("one second womp two second womp") catching the edge of the front tire so it makes a slight whomp or catch sound at the verge of a topple....swaggering the bike and body in an S motion appropriately. A continuous refinement of the edge.

Superior Court Case Records

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This is one of the Thirty Three incredible stories surrounding the discovery of
King Solomon's Gate
The first Archaeological Proof of the Bible in history