Thanks to corporate acquisitions, the parent company, in its quest to become the richest SOB on the planet, will create a fruitcake of independent companies coagulated together with the honey of money. As they search the world, they accumulate many small businesses and roll them up into a finely tuned conglomerate whose sole purpose is to utilize the components and generate gold highways into their vaults. It is their diversity that allows them to increase the efficiency of these smaller parts, just like one neuron wired to many others forms a brain. The unraveling of a corporate chain is more complex than disassembling a DNA strand for legal reasons. Lawsuits congregate around money. Take, for example, a bubble gum company that was formed when 2 candy companies were bought by a 3rd party. They were later acquired by a huge corporation that liked their comic strip characters. Among them were: Bazooka Joke, an eye patch wearing kid that reminded the CEO of a sea pirate with nefarious intentions and his pal Morf, a thin boy that wore his turtleneck sweater up over his face, just like a virus mask. Couple that to the fact that buried in their corporate structure, they own a virus laboratory that does weapons grade infectious agents for the government. They also own a company that supplies launch tubes for the Trident Missiles installed on Columbia Class nuclear submarines. This parent also owns a software encryption firm that builds devices for military radios that could be compared with Bazooka Joke’s pet dog named Walky Talky. The similarities are uncanny. For a parent company that is, in essence, a defense contractor, why would it want to buy a bubble gum manufacturer? Because of the security and stealth nature of the businesses, no one involved can say anything. However, if a gum company pops up for sale and its comic characters of 70 years describe a few of their assets indirectly, what the hell; buy it. Human nature demands that we BRAG very discreetly.